“How did you persuade her?”
Jon stopped, those eyes smouldering. “Oh, you know, I have my little ways…”
One of the girls spluttered, “Not so little, Jon!” Both of them rocked, their faces glowing red.
Eyes bulging, Jed looked from the girls then back to Jon, barely able to force out his words, “You – you don't mean you…Jesus.”
“You just relax, Jed. Enjoy yourself. You're with your uncle Jon now.”
Being with 'uncle Jon' meant sitting in the back seat of a Vauxhall FD estate, comfortably close to one of the girls, who had introduced herself as Janet. Slim, dark-haired, and very loud, Jed couldn't help but find himself drawn to her happy, smiling eyes, and dimpled cheeks. She had a spread of freckles thrown haphazardly across her cheeky face, and her skin was like alabaster, toned arms revealed through a skimpy, sleeveless dark blue top. Her jeans were tight and left nothing to the imagination. Her easy, open manner helped Jed relax, and soon joined in with Janet's laughter as Jon took the car away from the confines of the Wirral peninsula, heading along the A41 towards Eastham. By the time the car drew into the Hooton Hotel car park, Jed was thoroughly at ease and looking forward to whatever the day might have in store.
Jon paid for everything. Prawn cocktail starter, fillet steak and chips, ice cream. All of it washed down by red wine and a couple of brandies. The girls were in high spirits by the time they all stumbled out into the late afternoon sunshine, holding onto one another, giggling. Jon, who hadn't touched a drop of alcohol and barely eaten a mouthful of his meal, rubbed his hands with expectation. “Let's all go down to Chester. Hire a boat. What do you say, Jed?”
What could he say? Jed was floating, and had been for quite some time, growing more and more intoxicated by Janet's companionship. It would need surgery to remove her from his side she was so close. Beaming from ear to ear, he shrugged and followed Jon to the car and, as he fell into the back seat, Janet was already kissing him. He didn't resist; her lips felt warm and soft and, closing his eyes, he felt a luxurious, woozy feeling flowing over him. He was happier than he had been for a long time.
Chester was not busy that afternoon; the shops already closing and by the time they had made their way down to the river, most of the boat hirers were shut. Jon spoke to the only one still open and then gestured for the others to follow. The man showed them onto a small rowing boat and helped them get onboard. Settling themselves down, it was up to Jed to take the oars and soon they were heading up the river, in the opposite direction to the weir.
The quietness put them all into a sort of spell. Jon, with his girl Laura, lay down, eyes closed, arms and legs entwined. Janet, trailing a hand in the water, watched the ripples as the boat slipped along and Jed, who had only rowed once before, worked hard with the oars, making their journey unhurried and gentle. Strong and fit, he enjoyed the moment, the breeze in his hair, the sun shining. A beautiful, wondrous day.
Rousing himself, Jon pointed to an area, shaded by overhanging trees, where a tiny berth waited. “Pull us in over there,” he said. Beside him, Laura stifled a yawn and put her head on his shoulder. “We're all a little tired. Maybe we could rest for a short while.”
Securing the boat on the little beach, they clambered ashore, Jon taking Laura into the undergrowth whilst Jed and Janet lay down on the grass. It was warm, the evening still young and Jed sighed, a warm glow flowing through him. Janet snuggled into his chest and soon they were both fast asleep.
Blinking open his eyes, Jed stared towards the sky, noting the streaks of grey cloud. He sat up and checked his watch. It had stopped. Tapping the glass, it remained frozen. Next to him, Janet groaned and turned on her side. They must have been asleep for well over an hour, he estimated. Shivering, he got to his feet, rubbing his arms. They were alone, Jon and Laura presumably still deep in the surrounding undergrowth. Then he noticed Janet's wristwatch and he stooped down and tenderly turned her wrist to peer at the face. He gasped. It was almost 7 pm. They had been asleep for over two hours! Frantic, he shook the girl by the shoulders and rolled over, stretching out like a cat, yawning widely.
“We have to go,” Jed whispered. He didn't understand why he whispered, but something about that place made him shiver, and not because of the cold. Peering into the impenetrable shadows of the trees, a dreadful hostility, even a malevolence, seeped out from between the branches. He took an involuntary step backwards.
“They're having fun.”
He snapped his head towards Janet. “We've been gone too long. It'll be dark soon.”
“So?”
“So – we have to get back.” Feeling like an unwanted intruder, he faced the trees once more, took a breath and shouted out his friend's name.
The silence seemed to mock him as a reply. Nothing stirred, no birds sang, the only sound the gentle lapping of the river against the little beach. Moving over to the boat, Jed contemplated rowing back, just the two of them. As if to remind him he should first find Jon, a stiffening breeze rustled through the leaves, louder than anything else.
Janet stood and stretched, and Jed's eyes dropped to her breasts, straining against her top. As her arms came flopping down to her sides, she noticed him staring and gave a little laugh. “How old are you?”
Jed started, caught off-balance, his answer automatic, “Eighteen.” He waited, holding his breath, wondering if, realising his age, she might not wish to be alone with him.
But didn't she know anyway? Hadn't he said, when they all met him outside the bookshop, he needed to be at school? He gulped as she took a step closer, his eyes hovering on her full, ample breasts.
She smiled, placing her arms on his shoulders, eyes boring into him. “You look older.”
“I do?”
She traced her fingers along his arms, sucking in her bottom lip thoughtfully. “You're very muscular. Do you work out?”
His heartbeat pulsed in his throat. She was so close, chest rising and falling, brushing against him. A tiny moan escaped from between his dry lips, “We, er, we need to find the others. It's late.”
“Oh, they can wait.” She reached out, took his face in her hands and pulled him towards her, closing her lips over his. She forced her tongue between his teeth and explored the inside of his mouth. Lost, he groaned, responding, arms slipping around her slender waist.
She pulled back, gasping. “Mmm, God, you're nice. Are you a virgin?”
Another tiny moan, the only reply he was able to muster. He longed for this moment to last forever but now, he grew frantic, believing she might turn away, unwilling to continue with someone as inexperienced as he was. But his fears were ungrounded as she again took hold of his face, her eyes unblinking, irresistible, devouring him. “You are, aren't you?”
What was he supposed to do, lie? Of course he was a virgin; not in mind, but certainly physically. He gave a feeble shrug.
“That's okay,” she said softly. “You won't be for very much longer.”
She smiled, he panicked. Holding onto him, she led him over to the place where they had slept and gently pulled him to the ground. Without a pause, her hands explored his jeans, before deftly unbuckling his belt and opened his zip. “My,” she said as her warm fingers reached inside, “you certainly are older than eighteen!”
With his head spinning, Jed lay back and gave himself up to the moment, her expert fingers bringing him out into the coolness of the early evening air. He groaned as he grew hard in her hand, and felt the softness of her lips as they enclosed around his blood engorged flesh.
At this point, when his world was about to enter a new stage, the other two came bursting out from the trees, laughing at the top of their voices.
Everything stopped.
And everyone looked.
Janet, laughing the loudest, drew away, allowing the others an uninterrupted view of his erection.
“Oh my God,” gasped Laura.
Janet moaned, licking her lips. “Isn't he lovely?”
Hastily, Jed s
crambled to his feet, stuffing himself back into his trousers, ignoring the pain and the discomfort, wanting only to hide away, to escape from their taunts and jeers.
Jon came over and clapped him on the back. “Perhaps we should give you another ten minutes?”
Janet laughed again. “We won't need that long.” She leaned forward and kissed Jed lightly on the lips, winking. “Don't worry,” she said in a whisper, pressing a little piece of paper into his shirt pocket, “I'm not going to let you get away.”
On the drive home, Jed pretended to sleep as he sat, huddled up in the corner of the front passenger seat. Janet and Laura were in the back, chatting away incessantly. No doubt they were going to have a wonderful time recounting Jed's shame, over and over again, sharing it with everyone they knew. He squirmed at the thought of it, telling himself that from now one he would hibernate in his room and stay out of everyone's way. For a week, a month – perhaps until he was fifty!
Jon pulled the car up outside Jed's house and sat for a moment, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. “Sorry we interrupted you back there, Jed…” he looked at his young friend. “Apart from that, you had a good time, yeah?”
Jed nodded, not wishing to prolong the conversation, his hand already folding around the door handle.
“I have a little favour to ask,” said Jon, reached over to the glove compartment. He took out a small package, tightly bound in brown parcel tape. “I need you to take this down to the The Beach, hand it over to the manager there, a guy called Tony Laine. Do it tonight, just around ten.”
“The Beach nightclub? Jon, I can't do this tonight – I have school tomorrow. I need to work for my—”
“This'll only take you half an hour, Jed.” Jon patted him on the knee, “I know you won't let me down.” Then, just as Janet had done, he took Jed's face between finger and thumb and turned him around, looking deeply into his eyes. “”You won't let me down, will you Jed?”
A large black hole opened up beneath him, and Jed felt as if he were floating on a warm, soothing up draft of air. Any thought of arguing simply disappeared, a wave of complete, total submissiveness overcoming all resistance. He would have gladly done anything Jon had asked him to. “No,” he said softly, hardly daring to speak lest he should shatter the spell, “of course I won't. I'd do anything for you, you know that.”
Jon smiled sweetly and patted his young friend's cheek. “That's my boy. Now you go and have yourself a nice shower, maybe play with yourself for a bit, yeah? Get rid of all that frustration.”
“You want me to?”
Jed held his breath, waiting for the answer that he longed for. He was so hard he thought he would burst through his trousers.
Jon stroked his cheek, “Yes.”
Jed almost cried he was so happy. He ran out of the car and went through his front door without stopping, bounding up the stairs and into the bathroom.
It didn't take long.
After his shower, a towelling robe wrapped tightly around him, Jed flopped down on his bed, a distinct feeling that something had happened when Jon had parked the car. He struggled to think what, but something Jon said, or arranged, niggled away inside him. Most of the day was a blur, and then the evening, after he had called a taxi to take him to the nightclub. He recalled the man called Laine, angry and shouting, pushing Jed out of the entrance, a large bouncer threatening him, telling him never to set foot in there again. The taxi driver, waiting on the other side of the street, had said something about not wanting any trouble. But Jed wasn't about to give him any trouble. The package. Had he delivered it? He couldn't remember. By the time he returned home, the fug inside his head continued, clogging up his senses. In the kitchen, he threw down four headache tablets, Dad furious with him, Jed unable to recall his words. The shower helped, but what he really needed was sleep.
But sleep didn't come. He lay with his eyes wide, trying to descramble the details of the day. He recalled the bookshop, meeting the girls and – what was her name, the one… the one who kissed him. The one thing he recalled with any clarity, that kiss. So wonderful, he could almost taste it on his lips, the taste of cherries. A stirring developed in his loins, reassuring him that his strange feelings for Jon were nothing more than hero-worship. He wasn't gay. That girl had opened up a whole new chapter for him and if he could only see her again, perhaps something …
He sat bolt upright, elated at remembering she had put something into his pocket. He switched on his side light, got up, and almost ran to his shirt. Pulling out the paper, he scanned the words. There it was, her name. Janet. And a phone number. He closed the paper in his fist and almost swooned in relief. That kiss, those lips. Soon he would experience them again. Very soon.
19
Phillips caught up with him in the corridor the following day, scowling as usual. “Where were you yesterday afternoon, Meres?”
“I had permission, sir. From Miss Earle.”
“I didn't ask you that. You weren't getting up to anything else questionable were you?”
“Questionable? Not at all, sir. I went home, did a bit more work on my art and then went to bed. No crime in that, sir.”
Phillips sucked in his breath. “I've put my neck on the line for you, Meres. Just don't let me begin to question my decision. That's all.” And with that, he stomped off.
Jed didn't give Phillips another thought throughout the rest of the day, which went, for the most part, well. Until late afternoon, when he was just putting the final changes to his artwork and Chaplain came in, grinning broadly, and grabbed Miss Earle around the waist and squeezed her. She giggled, put up a pathetic fight, then turned in his arms and looked adoringly into his eyes. “What's got into you?”
“Home time,” said Chaplain, then he noticed Jed for the first time and sighed loudly. “What are you doing here, Meres?”
“Just finishing off, sir.”
Chaplain was head of the art department. People said he was an ex-boxer and he certainly looked the part, but way his prime now. Although still a big man, his stomach was ample and his breathing often laboured. But Jed liked him. A character was Chaplain, and not a bad one at that.
The big man came over and looked appreciably towards Jed's painting. “Quite good, Meres. Quite good.”
“Thank you very much, sir.”
“All down to my excellent teaching,” trilled Miss Earle, packing away her bag. “Come on, Jed. Time to go. You've still got three more days to get that done.”
“Here,” said Chaplain, turning to Miss Earle, “I forgot to tell you – just before I came in, I heard it on the radio. The owner of The Beach nightclub has been found, hanging under New Brighton pier.”
Jed's hand froze above his artwork, his mouth open, listening intensely. He craned his neck, to see Miss Earle, horrified. “Oh my God,” she said. “How dreadful. Did he leave a note or anything?”
“A note? Why should there be a note? Didn't you hear what I said, he was hanging under the pier.”
“Yes, I know what you said, but they usually leave a note, don't they? Suicides?”
Chaplain rubbed his face. “Who said anything about suicide – he'd been murdered, Lucy.”
Both of them turned as Jed let out a loud cry of despair.
He wanted to get home, tune into the early evening news, pick up some more information. If what Chaplain had said was true, that Tony Laine had been murdered, then it was clear the police would be calling on him again very soon. Plenty of witnesses would come forward to testify that they'd seen him. Already in the frame over Nurse Willis and Craig Watson, the police, and especially Sullivan, would circle him like a flock of vultures.
The news, as he sat in front of the television, gnawing away at his fingernails, was worse than he expected. Not only had the police found Laine's body swinging from beneath the boards of New Brighton pier, his club, The Beach, had been burned to the ground. Thankfully, nobody was inside at the time, but the devastation caused was dreadful. It would take months and a huge
amount of cash to rebuild the place. With Laine gone, the question was who would pick up the bill?
Wandering into the kitchen, Jed sat at the table, staring at the meal Dad had prepared. Dad, appearing distracted, didn't eat, washed some dishes, then disappeared upstairs, leaving Jed to stir through his food with a fork. He studied the congealed mass of vegetables, the shrivelled piece of charred pork and decided Dad wasn't managing. It was time for Jed to step in, cook and clean, do the shopping.
He threw down the cutlery, blew out his cheeks and thought back to Laine. Too much was going on. Murders, Hannah Randall, Dad … Jon Kepowski…
The doorbell rang. Jed moaned. He knew without a doubt who it was and when he opened the door to let Sullivan in, neither of them spoke.
He made the policeman a cup of tea without asking, then sat down opposite and waited.
“Expecting me?”
“Sort of. I had nothing to do with it.”
“No. I don't suppose you did. But that's not why I'm here.” He took a sip of his tea and made a face. Jed pushed over the sugar bowl and Sullivan smiled his thanks and piled in three heaped tea-spoonsful. He took another sip and smacked his lips loudly. “That's better.”
“So, why are you here?”
“Don't get me wrong, Jed my lad, we're still very interested in what you were doing at The Beach last night, but that can wait. What can't wait is the phone call I got from Hannah Randall late last night. Where's your dad?”
“Upstairs.”
Sullivan nodded, took another mouthful of tea, and leaned forward, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You know all about it, I suspect. She said you did.”
“Yeah. I know all about it.”
Sullivan carefully settled his cup on the table and spread out his hands. “I have a problem. Or, to be more precise, we have a problem. We came to an arrangement, that you would try to become close to Brian Randall, unearth the names and the faces behind the suppliers. But now…” He shook his head and looked tired. “Why did Brian show you those photographs? What sort of game is he trying to play, and how much have you told him about you and me, Jed?”
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