Twelve Days
by Charles Lacey
Chapter 10
Sunday 22nd December
As it was a Sunday, we went to Church as usual; Tracy managed to get into my Norfolk jacket and breeches, pending the arrival of his own from the tailor's, while I wore my school jacket and tie.
The Rector gave another excellent sermon. He was a notable preacher, which was probably the main reason why St Thomas's was always well attended. There had to be some reason, since the building was architecturally undistinguished and exceedingly draughty, especially when the wind was in the north. This sermon was about Love. He spoke about 'the Disciple whom Jesus loved'; connecting it with the Christmas message of the angels: Love coming into the world as a tiny baby. He ended by reciting Christina Rossetti's poem Love came down at Christmas .
After the service we came home briskly, the weather still being exceedingly cold. But on the way out of Church I was waylaid by Arthur, cheery and voluble as always.
"I like your new friend. He's going to be good for you, I can see. And you for him, of course, as well." Could he have meant anything by this? Well, Arthur had a heart of pure gold, but he was not a stupid boy by any means. And he, too, attended a Public School and no doubt knew perfectly well what boys do. But I was pleased and touched that he seemed to approve.
It's a curious thing, looking back, that my feelings for Tracy were never associated in my mind with the amusements I was enjoying at school with Percevall. The answer, of course, is that what Percevall and I were doing was merely sexual: a relief for excessive pressure, if you like. What I was feeling for Tracy went much deeper. Even then, I loved him, though I could not for all the world have told him so.
Tracy's health continued to improve gradually. We had been lucky that his poor frostbitten feet did not become infected as they might easily have done. But each evening, once we were in our night-shirts, he would sit with his feet on my lap and I would rub Zam-Buk ointment into them. On this particular evening I'd forgotten to do it until bed-time. I sat on the edge of the bed; Tracy sat in the chair. I found, to my slight discomfiture, that this gave me an excellent view of his legs. They were still too thin, but that was gradually improving. I was very tempted, once I had finished with the ointment, to reach up and stroke them. Did he realise I could see almost all the way to his… well, you know! Could he possibly have meant me to do so?
The anointing of his feet completed, Tracy stood up and hugged me warmly, saying, "Thank you, Christopher. My feet feel much better now." I returned his hug, and we exchanged a good-night kiss – on the cheek –before climbing into bed together.
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