Noah flinched and caught his breath as an ice-cold squirt of massage lotion dropped on his left flank. “Sorry, cold!” he gasped, jumping again as Harry’s warm hand started to smooth it into his skin.
“All right?” Harry murmured.
“Uh-huh.”
“I’ll warm it in my hands this time,” Harry said, squirting some more lotion into his palms and rubbing them together a little before placing them gently on Noah’s shoulders.
“Uggg…” Noah moaned, as Harry worked his thumbs into a knot below his right shoulder blade. He was pretty sure Harry wasn’t a qualified masseuse, but my God, it didn’t matter. This was … lovely.
But he couldn’t just lie here and make Haz do all the work. He needed to make an effort too. “Haz – just look in my bag, will you? There’s my notebook in there.”
“Really?”
“Uh-huh.”
Harry nipped over to retrieve the notebook and handed it to Noah, who propped himself up a bit with the pillows under his chest and f lipped to the relevant page.
“Shall I carry on?” Harry asked.
“Uh-huh,” Noah said. “I was just going to read you a poem, you know, while you worked away. It’s a nice poem, Haz. It’s about us. Do you want to hear it?”
“Noah, I would love to hear it,” Harry said, resuming his stroking motions a little lower down Noah’s back now.
“OK. Here we go. It’s called ‘Love Train’.” Noah cleared his throat.
“Love is like a train…”
Harry’s warm fingers swept lightly under the waistband of Noah’s boxers.
“HOT! and sometimes delayed.
But like a train,
Love can…”
Harry’s fingers made a sweeping motion, right over Noah’s buttocks.
“TAKE you plaaaaaaaaaaaaces… Ha! Hahhhhhh! Huh.”
“You OK?” Harry asked.
“Huh, yes,” Noah said, taking a breath, starting to feel himself press into the mattress. Well, that’s a marvellous thing, Noah thought.
“Sure?”
“Sure. I’m going to continue the poem now.”
“OK,” Harry said, moving his fingers in circular motions towards the base of Noah’s spine.
“Some love is first class,
With plenty of space and free refreshments.
Some love is standard class,
And that’s still OK, but definitely less good overall.
(We are first class, in case you were wondering).”
Harry nodded. “Yes, I agree. First class.”
“There’s more, so—”
“Sorry,” Harry said, squirting a little more lotion out into his hands.
Noah cleared his throat again.
“Some love is a fare dodger,
And they get thrown off.”
Harry started to gently stroke the backs of Noah’s knees.
“LOOOOVE AH AH must pay its aaaaaaahhhhhhh… Wa wa wa… dues!
You cannot, oh God, trick, huh, love,
Or ride … ri … ri— Wooo woo woo, huh ha ga ga.”
“What’s that last bit?” Harry asked, still stroking the backs of Noah’s knees.
“Ga goo waa…” Noah sank into the bed, Harry’s lingering fingers brushing the backs of his knees, tingling, flooding him with warmth. He cleared his throat. “Or ride the love train without a ticket,” he gasped.
“I’m not getting the metaphor there,” Harry said, stopping his stroking.
“Well,” Noah said, trying to think of his best English literature bollocks whilst feeling really light-headed, “what I think the poet is trying to say here is that love isn’t something you can just have for free. There’s a price – not necessarily a financial price, of course, because that might make you a rent boy – but you have to give something… Give of yourself, if you like, for love to work.”
“That’s a nice sentiment,” Harry said.
“Yes!” Noah said. “There’s more, though, so…”
“Sorry.”
Noah cleared his throat as Harry shuffled up the bed a bit, starting work just above Noah’s knees now.
“Some trains are slow trains,
But they get there in the end.
Some trains are express trains,
But speed isn’t everything and can be dangerous!”
There was a murmur of appreciation from Harry. Good. It just went to show that doing everything all at once wasn’t always the best way. Noah was pleased with that verse. It was good.
Harry squirted some more lotion into his hands and started making small strokes over Noah’s inner thighs. Noah shivered, nerve endings on fire, with the most ridiculous erection he’d ever had in his life, hypersensitive to every exquisite touch. “Oh!”
“Are you OK with this?”
Noah swallowed. Oh God he was. “Yeah, it’s… Yeah, I am, Harry. I’m so OK with this.”
Harry went higher, brushing his fingers tenderly under the legs of Noah’s boxers. Noah exhaled unsteadily into the pillow. One verse to go – he should probably try to say it quickly before he collapsed into jelly.
“Drive the train straight down the tracks,
Into the tunnel, no looking back!
Drive the train to places new,
I want to ride this train with you!”
Silence, and then Harry’s lips brushed the nape of his neck with a delicate kiss. “Did you like the poem?” Noah murmured.
“Yeah, it was sweet and I loved it,” Harry said.
Noah smiled and looked back at Harry … who somehow, Noah wasn’t sure how or when, had now also removed most of his clothes and was kneeling at Noah’s side on the bed, in just his boxers.
And, er … he looked just as ready for action as Noah was.
And yet…
Those perfect guys in the club… Kitten Face’s mean words… Everyone with their perfect, toned, groomed, sexy bodies.
This had to be perfect. He couldn’t take his boxers off, not without…
“Haz? I just need to pop to the bathroom for a minute,” Noah said.
“Cool,” Harry said.
“OK, so…” Noah slid off the bed, keeping his back to Harry as he scuttled towards the en suite and slid the bolt. He released a breath and stared at himself in the mirror. “You can do this,” he muttered. “This is the moment. Just one more thing…”
Noah pulled the tube of Veet he’d bought earlier from his washbag and examined the small print on the back. Blah, blah, blah, lots of boring stuff they always say about things from chemists, something about it not being suitable for “perianal” use, whatever the hell that was, must be something to do with women, because Noah was pretty sure he didn’t have one of those. So that was fine. Blah, blah, blah … don’t use on genitals. OK, fine, but why not? What could go wrong? And bearing in mind this was a product marketed at women, it probably just meant women’s bits, not boy bits.
With this product, he would remove all body hair in those regions, and be smooth, just like the pictures he’d seen online, and in real life, in the shape of perfect Pierre. Everyone else must do it. How else would you remove that sort of hair? A cut-throat razor near his willy? No thanks! How dangerous would that be?!
He slapped the cream on and lathered it about.
Lovemaking, here we come.
CHAPTER
FORTY-TWO
“AAAARGGHHHHHHH! AAAAAAAARRRRRGHH! ARRRRRGGGGGGGHHHH! GAAAAAAAAAAAH! AHHHHHHH! AH! AH! AAAARGGGGGHHH!”
CHAPTER
FORTY-THREE
Eyes watering, Noah bit down on the balled-up sock that was in his mouth as Mick drove the van over yet another evil London speed bump. On his back, on the rear seats, legs spread out as wide as he could, totally akimbo, anything, just to provide maximum airflow around the stricken area. Harry and Pierre were somewhere in the front; he didn’t really care. A hotel “complimentary robe” barely covered his lower regions, but he also didn’t care. With pain this intense, the only thing you could fo
cus on was the MONUMENTAL AGONY.
The last thing he remembered clearly was slapping the cream all over his boy parts.
From there, it was pretty much a blur.
He remembered a tingling sensation that quickly developed into RED-HOT HELLFIRE.
He recalled screaming for help.
Desperately scraping the cream away … splashing with water … trying to get into the bath … slipping, flapping about in the bath … falling against the hot towel rail … banging on the en-suite door…
The next thing he remembered was Mick carrying him past reception in his arms, like a dying child, Pierre and Harry following, Mick angrily saying, “Grab all your stuff, after this you’re all going straight home!”
Words … frantic phone calls … mention of A&E departments…
Someone produced a bag of frozen peas, but they were quickly dismissed.
The hotel car park … was that a black Vauxhall Astra?
The woman … she was there…
Then bundled in the back of the van…
The pain! The burning! What had become of his testicles? he wondered. Were they still even there? Or had they been burnt away in the Great Fire of Testicles?
Noah’s delirious words: “Is Kitten Face chasing? Is it a test?”
And then:
BRIGHT LIGHTS
Doctors
Nurses
A trolley – rushing through corridors…
Voices and faces blending into one big nightmarish TUBE OF VEET with evil horns and red eyes, dancing around Noah, goading him, squirting its devil cream at him.
A voice: “Can someone shut him up, there’s a man having a stroke in here!”
Other voices – laughing?
“Can we just sedate him, this is ridiculous,” another voice, maybe a surgeon or very important doctor who had been urgently drafted in for the case.
The last thing he remembered, as a needle went in his arm and the fluid dripped in, was reaching out to Harry: “Has the goose shat yet? Has the goose shat?”
CHAPTER
FORTY-FOUR
Noah stared up into the bright white light as a kindly face, probably the face of God, loomed into view.
“Is this heaven?” he muttered.
“It’s St Thomas’s hospital,” the face said, gradually coming into focus. Not God. Harry.
“Harry, um … good, that’s…” Noah stared blankly ahead. “How many years have I been in a coma?”
“You’ve just been sleeping off the sedative they gave you. A few hours, that’s all. It’s Sunday morning.”
Noah glanced at Harry. He looked shattered. “So, Harry, I wanted to talk to you about the different colour bins for rubbish collection, because, er… So, my mother thinks it’s OK to put a plastic tray from an ASDA Thai green curry ready meal in the green bin, but, huh … it’s very clear … on the sticker on the bin … that … that type of plastic isn’t currently recycled, so it had to go in the black bin, not the green bin, so…”
“He’s just a bit delirious coming round from the sedation,” Noah heard a voice say, apparently some sort of nurse. “Hello, Noah,” she said. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine, fine, fine,” Noah said. “The bins, though, I was saying…”
“Try not to worry about them just now, sweetheart.”
“But … it’s collection day on Tuesday!”
The nurse plumped his pillows and settled him back down. “OK, well, I’m sure your mum will remember.”
“No! Forgets! Or she puts out the brown one, but brown is every other Wednesday. Garden waste.”
“How’s the pain?” the nurse asked.
“No pain.”
“OK, well, you might start to feel a bit sore in a bit, when the painkillers start to wear off, so just say and I’ll get you a children’s paracetamol.”
“But I’m an adult!” Noah said.
The nurse turned to Harry. “Don’t let him get out of bed.”
Harry nodded. “OK.”
The nurse headed out the door of the small, private room they’d put him in. Noah did his best to focus … really hard … willing the fog to clear… “What happened, Harry?”
Harry gave him a withering look. “Don’t ask, Noah.”
Noah nodded. Fine. It was probably all OK, then, whatever it was. Maybe he had slipped in the shower or something? Maybe he hadn’t heeded that warning about using the special non-slip mat.
He wiggled his toes. Yes, they were moving. That was good. Checked both his arms – affirmative. All limbs appeared to be present and correct. He quickly did some sums in his head: one plus two – three. Two times six – twelve. Hmm. Basic brain function was intact. What does TTL stand for in electronics? he asked himself. Answer: Transistor-transistor logic. Huh. Memory circuits seem fine. Why, then, was he in hospital?
Think … think…
French people…
Gran…
A road trip…
London…
“OH SHIT, THE GOOSE!” Noah squealed. “THE GOOSE, THE DIAMONDS!” He gasped in horror as everything came flooding back. “MY TESTICLES! WHAT’S HAPPENED TO MY TESTICLES?!”
“OK, don’t panic, but—” Harry tried to put a reassuring hand on Noah’s shoulder, but Noah shrugged him off, lifting the sheet to reveal…
Noah screamed. “OH MY ACTUAL GOD?!”
“You had a little … mishap. Remember?”
“ARRGH! WHAT?!”
“Calm down.”
“Easy for you to say! I’ve had a testicle accident! How would you like it? Oh my God. Are they ruined? Are my testicles ruined?”
“They think you’ll be fine.”
“THINK?! They think I’ll be fine, do they? Oh, that’s brilliant.” He started sobbing. “I hadn’t even got to use them properly yet.”
“Grimes!”
“Oh no,” Noah muttered, seeing Ms O’Malley standing in the doorway, Pierre just behind her.
“Oh yes!” she replied. “This mess is precisely why we don’t allow you to do unauthorized activities with the French students! We have a duty of care, you know?” She shook her head. “The head wants to speak to you about this. There’s talk of a suspension for you.”
Noah’s mouth fell open. Suspended? Him? He would never live down the shame! “How did you find us?” he babbled.
“How do you think?” she said, indicating Pierre.
White-hot fury bubbled up inside him. “You?” Noah said. “But of course!”
“What?” Pierre frowned. “Our trip is not secret, no?”
Ms O’Malley crossed her arms. “We’ve tracked Eva down to what sounds like an illegal rave in Stoke Newington. Once I’ve picked her up, I’ll be taking her and Pierre safely back to Little Fobbing. Meanwhile, I’ve contacted your parents and—”
“Not my dad!” Noah said.
“… and luckily, your father happens to be in the vicinity, so is on his way here to pick you up. This is one big mess, Grimes, and at least your suspension will give you a chance to reflect on that.”
Screw that. Screw her! So, the Malley wanted to play hardball, did she? She could hardly get him suspended if she herself was IN PRISON!
“I know about you and Pierre,” he said, eyeballing her.
“I beg your pardon?” she said, placing a fist on her hip.
Noah took a deep breath. “I first became suspicious when I returned the football to your office and noticed a wire transfer to your bank account, from Russia.”
Ms O’Malley glared at him. “Is that right?”
He gave her a little smile. Her careless blunder had cost her dear! “Sometime later, I overheard a secret phone conversation of Pierre’s, in which he arranged to meet a contact at the shed by the school kitchens.”
Pierre screwed his face up. “If it was secret, why would I do it in school?”
“It was an error, Pierre,” Noah said. “You made an error. It’s the little slips that provide the clues, you see! Now, I hadn’t plan
ned to –” Noah glanced briefly at Harry “– but I hid in the bushes that evening, covertly monitoring the shed.”
“And what did you see, Noah?” Ms O’Malley said.
“What I witnessed was the unloading of several boxes from your car, and the contents of a holdall of Pierre’s, as well as a further conversation you had on the phone – in Russian. So!” Noah said, triumphantly. “With all that in mind, I wonder whether I’m still being suspended?!”
Ms O’Malley looked at him with stone-cold eyes. “Yes, you are. And then some.”
“But—”
“Noah,” Pierre said, looking hurt and disappointed. “All you saw … was some boxes of cheese.”
“Drugs cheese!” Noah squealed. “A cover for the drugs! Drugs hiding inside cheese!”
Pierre shook his head. “No. Just cheese.”
“Then it’s illegal cheese! You’ve smuggled illegal, unpasteurized cheese into the country!” Noah declared.
Pierre shook his head again. “No. Just small amounts for personal use.”
“Personal use!” Noah scoffed.
“Yes, although it must be said, you have also had some of this cheese.”
Noah stared at him and swallowed.
Pierre continued, “It is my plan … to arrange a ‘thank you’ event to our host families and Little Fobbing residents. At the end of our stay – an evening of cheese, wine and music. An end of exchange prom!”
Noah breathed heavily through his nose, mouth clamped shut.
“The boxes just contained cheese, wine and crackers for the prom,” Pierre explained. “We put it all in the store that evening because Ms O’Malley had netball practice until late, so she couldn’t help me before. In my bag – some pickles and chutney I had brought over from France.”
“And, but… And you… But you visited the Willows!” Noah said.
“To invite some of the old people too. It is a … community celebration. Bring everyone together – that is the point of these exchange programmes, I think? Unity. Togetherness. Different cultures, different ages, all as one?”
Noah swallowed again. “But … the Russian! I heard Russian! On the phone!”
“You did,” Ms O’Malley said.
Noah Could Never Page 23