N Fourbois | Out of the Ghetto

Out of the Ghetto

by N Fourbois

It wasn't a bad orphanage as far as orphanages go, but it wasn't a good one either. Orphanages can't be good by the very nature of their business and calling it Morningwood House and leaving the words home and orphanage out of the name didn't make it any the less an orphanage. The 'house parents' were benign and did their best with the resources available. They tried to create a family atmosphere, but how many families do you know with forty boys the majority of whom aren't related? At least the local authority tried to keep brothers together and brothers and sisters were accommodated in other orphanages that weren't called orphanages either. The orphans, sorry the residents, got on together by and large and the bully boys were kept under control, but they existed nonetheless. You could not forget by the very nature of Morningwood House that it was made up of damaged children.

Adam had his problems, but he was probably one of the better adjusted members of the 'family'. He just had two problems to deal with, of which his grief was one, and it took two years to overcome grief, or so his counsellor had told him as if it were mandatory. He had never suffered the cruelty or the rejection experienced by some of his housemates. He at least had the confidence to look adults in the face whereas others in the home might cower away or avoid them. His independence, enterprise and pragmatic personality had survived the death of his mother and father on the M6 when a petrol tanker slewed across the central reservation and he never knew whether they were instantly killed by the impact or in the ensuing conflagration. That played on his mind, that and the merest quirk of fate which meant that a late telephone call had summoned him into school that Saturday to sub in a rugby match for someone who had gone down with flu. He should have been in that car, which played on his conscience. 'Why them and not me?'

His other problem? Just before the accident he had come out, perhaps forced out for his parents had come home unexpectedly to find him on the sofa in the living room in the middle of a clinch and a deep French kiss with his best mate Jack. It could have been worse, he supposed. Another ten minutes it would have been jeans off and dick in mouth. His parents took it well. Indeed it was no surprise as that feminine intuition of his mother's had worked a hundred times more effectively than a man's gaydar. They were very sensible, withdrew and waited for Adam to say something. They accepted the fact and affirmed their love of their son, come what may. Mr and Mrs Stropp were not so understanding and Jack was forbidden to see Adam again, although they had no control over what happened at school. However, this episode was quickly overshadowed by the accident on the M6 and just when as an only child Adam needed special care, love and attention, his boyfriend's family was no longer there for him.

Materially he had nothing to worry about. He would be able to stay at the orphanage until he finished school, rather than to his sixteenth birthday as usually happened in local authority homes and his parents' will had set up a trust with the family inheritance for him and to that would eventually be added substantial compensation and insurance money which the family solicitor would administer within stringent guidelines until his twenty-first birthday. In the meantime he was just a normal penniless orphan, under strict instructions to keep his eventual wealth to himself.

He was out. He was out at school days after the discovery his parents had made at home. That was inevitable and it in fact did him no harm. Of course, some of the residents at the orphanage attended the same school and so it was not long before he was given the queers' handshake which he automatically returned. That gave him entrée to the little gay circle in the orphanage and while he didn't find a boyfriend to replace Jack it did provide support and protection in the new and strange environment and the 'godfather' of circle made sure he was looked after and instructed in the ways of being gay. Yes, there was the odd mutual masturbation, but otherwise he was generally left alone, and if he couldn't live the gay life there at least he talk about it. Ironically any boys he fancied in the orphanage were all str8.

Adam had settled in. The community rallied round to make sure he was kept occupied and had little time to brood. He was after all not the only resident to have lost his parents suddenly. The few relatives he had were scattered over the globe rather than the country and were really strangers to him. Yes, his mother and father had talked about them, he had seen pictures, they telephoned at Christmas, but not to talk to him. They offered sympathy at his parents' death, but not sufficient to jet across the world to their funeral or to offer to adopt him. A family friend from an association his father had belonged to, who for some reason was called an almoner, had cared for him through that time and had accompanied him at the funeral, a nominal affair for the real cremation had taken place at the scene of the accident. His father's friend, the almoner, in his seventies and not in good health himself, was relieved of the burden by social services. As said, Adam had settled in. The days became weeks, the weeks grew into months. His fourteenth birthday came and went. It was celebrated in the orphanage with a mention and a cake. He received a card and a present from the family solicitor, he received a card and a sum of money from a newly appointed almoner, all so impersonal. When he went to bed that night, it was the first time he cried. The emptiness in his life had hit him. His counsellor would tell him it's all part of the grieving process.

"Are your mum and dad still alive?" he asked counsellor.

"We're not permitted to talk about ourselves," came the reply. From that moment the counsellor was written off in Adam's mind as a waste of space. Although they still met, they might have spoken, but there was no conversation any more. He started to wonder how he could get away from the institution. He was wise enough to know it would be pointless to run away. For a start he had nowhere to run to and he had social stability in the orphanage even though it lacked the space and organisation for him to be an individual, provided little intellectual stimulation and stunted him emotionally. He wanted, no, he needed another boyfriend. Better still would be having Jack back. Seeing him at school didn't help. They were still friends despite Mr and Mrs Stropp's efforts. They might even sneak off to the boiler room for a quick kiss and a grope, occasionally a little more if they felt safe, but that gave Adam little satisfaction. He could do that with half a dozen willing boys at Morningwood House (one faceless council official must have had a wicked sense of humour to push that name through for a house full of adolescent boys) if he wanted to, but he might as well just have a good wank in the bog if it wasn't with someone he loved. With a little more tolerance and understanding the Stropps could have invited Adam to live with them. With the provisions made he wouldn't have been a financial burden. The solicitor and almoner would have taken care of that. Instead he was now an anonymous burden on the taxpayer.

Saturday afternoon at the end of half term. The school holidays were not the easiest time in the orphanage as no school meant that everybody was on top of one another with just the occasional coach trip and youth workers who came in and organised the boys, usually in music or drama, rarely in the rugged masculine outdoor pursuits they needed. Towards the end the atmosphere would become fractious. Adam needed some time on his own and decided to go for a run. The boys were free to go out as they wished during daylight hours providing they signed the exeat book with name, reason and ETR. He changed into running shorts, trainers, vest and hoodie. It was never wise to stick out. Fading into the background was safest, not that he carried money, watch or mobile on these excursions. His bodybuild was right for running. He carried no excess weight; he fairly rattled around in his short shorts, loose cut for freedom of movement. He wanted a lycra running onepiece, but that would have been far too ostentatious for an orphan boy, and a gay one at that.

Adam set out for the local park. As parks go it was large with different types of terrain, grassy areas for ball players, a wooded area for the local wildlife, a lake for rowing boats, ducks and swans. There was always something going on and if some lads were playing football he could stop, pretend to be interested in the game and boywatch, always ready to make a quick getaway, should he be busted. He never had been, but there was always a first time. As a young gay he always felt vulnerable. The 'godfather' had impressed that on 'his' boys. Adam ran round the lake to begin with. Lots of children were there with fishing nets and model boats, but no eye candy. They were all too young to interest him. He ran round the grassy area at a sprint, working up a sweat. When he had completed the perimeter he stopped to watch a dozen lads playing football. He thought how graceful some of them looked as they chased the ball, feeling a swelling in his groin while he unconsciously licked his lips. Good job he had resisted the idea of freeballing. He loved the feeling of his balls jiggling up and down as he ran, but he could only risk that when he wore longer shorts for fear of low undercarriage syndrome and the unexpected boner. His expanding tackle was safely tucked inside his jock.

He was enthralled by the boys chasing a soccer ball, all roughly his age, when he was ripped out of his reverie by a sudden cold wet feeling on his bare butt. He looked round to see a young spaniel trying to get his attention. He bent down to stroke it and make a fuss of it and it wagged its tail and tried to lick his face in a friendly manner. He was absolutely taken by the dog until his eye followed from the collar along the lead to a hand and up an arm until he beheld the most beautiful and captivating boy he had ever seen.

"Sorry about that. She's always doing it," the boy said with a diffident smile. His voice flowed like honey. He had dark brown hair, blue eyes, a healthy ruddy complexion; and then there was the way he was dressed. He wore a red and blue short sleeved hockey shirt from the local private school over a white cotton and lycra long sleeved tee shirt, black shorts over long black skin tight sweatpants. The boy and the sports kit oozed quality. Adam was stunned into silence. Finally he found his tongue and in a hoarse, emotionally charged voice replied

"That's okay..."

"My name's Simon," and he held out his hand for Adam to shake.

"Mine's Adam," he said as he took the proffered hand. 'No! That's impossible. It must have been an accident. That couldn't have been his finger stroking my palm.' he thought.

"There's some good players in that group." Simon spoke with an educated accent.

"I know. I was watching them..." Adam blushed when he realised what he had said. "I mean..." but it was too late.

"Yes, so was I. Are they friends of yours?"

"No. I was just out for a run when I saw them."

"Me too. I go for a run with Lucy here and no matter how fast I go, she always beats me." Lucy barked and wagged her tail to show she knew they were talking about her. "You see, she likes you. Shake paws with Adam." Adam bent down to shake her paw and she dobbed his cold nose with hers. "Can we run together for a bit? I'm getting cold."

"Sure," said Adam. He couldn't believe his luck. "I haven't done the trail through the wood yet."

"That's great. I live the other side of the wood in one of those houses there." Adam thought 'Those are not houses, they're mansions.' "Where do you live?" continued Simon as he took Lucy off the lead and they started to run, two boys together and a lively young dog off ahead of them.

"Morningwood House," answered Adam.

"Isn't that an orph... er... a children's home?"

"Yes, it's an orphanage. My parents died some months ago. I haven't been there long. It was an accident... road accident."

"I'm sorry. My mother died a year ago. Cancer. I live with my father." It was Adam's turn to say sorry.

They reached the top of the hill which the wood covered. It was marked with a wishing well the council had built there to mark the summit where the three ascending paths met. The well was full of cigarette butts, leaves, débris and the odd copper coin, but no water. Adam made his wish, but as he had no coin to throw into it couldn't come true.

"What did you wish, Adam?"

"I can't tell you or it won't come true." Simon made a wish saying

"You'll know if mine comes true." He was momentarily puzzled, but then gave the matter no further heed. Adam's and Simon's paths now went their separate ways.

"I hope we meet again, Adam."

"So do I, Simon. You know where I live. You can always call in. It's not a prison. Just ring the doorbell." Adam realised that Simon was staring at him. 'You know, I think he's...' thought Adam, but didn't complete the sentence, at least not in words. He held out his hand to him. When he took it he stroked the palm. Simon reciprocated and Adam's heart leapt. So he hadn't been mistaken when they met. He wanted to hug him, but thought it too much for a first meeting. They turned to go their separate ways. After ten yards they both turned round and waved. Lucy gave a woof.

When he returned to the orphanage Adam immediately went and had a cold shower. It gave him temporary relief, but he would have to wait until the evening for anything longer lasting. He could not get that vision of beauty called Simon out of his head. After supper he went and watched television - My Family - he had a crush on Michael, but whenever he appeared he had Simon's head on his shoulders. The next day he took another run through the park and the wood in the hope that Simon might be a creature of habit. He was out of luck. Monday it would be back to school.

Sunday night Monday morning Adam was sleeping snugly in bed when he and his roommates were rudely awoken by a bang on the door which opened and showed two shadowy figures. The only source of illumination was the dim night lights on the landing behind them. Immediately a bucket of water was sluiced into the room with a shout of

"We hate queers." They ran off, leaving the bucket behind and by the time Adam and his roommates could get to the door they had disappeared. One of them switched on the lights. The floor was swamped.

"Lucky they just did that to the floor and not our beds," said Matt.

"That'll come if we don't catch them," said Andy. "It's all right, Adam. We're not blaming you."

"We'd better get to work and mop it up," said Adam "before it seeps through to the ceiling below."

"It probably has already," said Matt. "By the way, what is below?"

"The office," replied Andy.

"Oh my god. There won't be any hiding that," said Adam.

"Why should we want to hide it?" questioned Matt. "That was an attack on all three of us and why should we protect the culprits?" The boys went along to the cleaners' cupboard at the end of the corridor and fetching a mop and bucket they did their best to make good the damage before going back to bed.

At breakfast the following morning Adam took Matt and Andy to see the 'godfather'. Benji was one of the longest residents in the home and would be leaving to go to university the following autumn. His single mother had handed him over to social services when he was twelve. She had found him naked with another boy and had nearly beaten the life out of both of them. It would have been nearer the truth to say that the local court found him in need of protection. Her story was that she couldn't cope with him. Be that as it may, it was no secret that he was gay, shared his room with his boyfriend and used his seniority to campaign on behalf of the gay community in the house, as well as very unofficially at school. He was big and played in the school's 1st rugby XV. No one was going to mess with him and he was respected as a success of the system.

"So what have you three been up to?" They explained what had happened during the night. "You couldn't identify them?"

"No, too dark. Medium height, looked as if they were dressed in regulation dressing gowns with baseball caps pulled down over their faces," said Adam.

"And you didn't recognise the voices?"

"Nah," said the three boys said simultaneously.

"Did they take the bucket with them?"

"No, they dropped in their hurry to get away."

"Where is it at the moment?"

"In our room," replied Andy.

"Good. Keep it there for the moment. After breakfast you go and report what happened while I'll make a few enquiries about a missing bucket. It might narrow it down to which landing it's from. Keep me informed. I want to nail this before it gets out of hand. By the way, don't even think of protecting anyone. Half the boys might not even be in here if it hadn't been for people protecting the guilty." Benji obviously had his own agenda.

The three roommates went off to the office to report what had happened. After breakfast there was always at least one of the 'house parents' available. As they went in all three looked at the ominous damp patch on the ceiling.

"I wondered if we would get an explanation of that," said Mr Beadle, the house parent on duty. Adam recounted what had happened with supporting accounts from Andy and Matt. "Thank you for coming to see me. I consider this a grave matter and I shall be talking about it at house meeting this evening. Meanwhile you had better get yourselves off to school. Let me know if you discover anything. I don't want any revenge attacks or any action that will make the matter worse."

Adam arrived at school five minutes later than usual. Matt and Andy went to a different school. He had missed seeing Jack. They were in different tutor groups and didn't have any classes together on a Monday. At break they caught up with one another and talked about half term.

"How were things at home, Jack?"

"Still pretty frosty. If I wanted to go out, I had to provide a detailed risk assessment - where are you going, what are you doing, who are you seeing? And if the answer to the last question was a single boy's name it was time to bring in the spotlight, sleep deprivation and waterboarding to ensure I wasn't going off for a gay encounter. I'm sure if it were legal they'd have my bollocks chopped off like the dog's to make sure I didn't stray. How about you?" The bell rang for end of break.

"I'll tell you over lunch."

Adam went through the last two morning classes on autopilot, much as he had over the past few months. By and large the school was sympathetic. His teachers tried to draw him rather than push him. On good days they were successful, but the good days were few and far between and by and large they left him to his own devices. Written off might have been a more accurate description. With twenty-nine other pupils in the class they had their time cut out anyway and they were only human after all, looking for at least a little comeback to encourage them. This morning was different, but none of the staff would have noticed. Adam had made progress, emotional progress. He had put behind him the loss of his parents, accepted that he and Jack would only meet at school and that if his parents had their way they would send him to another school. The tiny spark of light in his life had been the encounter with Simon in the park and that spark had quickly been doused by a bucket of water thrown over his bedroom floor in the middle of the night. He was a marked man in his own community.

Jack was waiting outside the dining hall when Adam got there. They queued up at the self-service counter, then took their food over to a table in a quiet corner. Adam told Jack about the water incident and afterwards with more relish about his meeting with Simon. His face had an inspired glow which Jack could not fail to notice. It was at that moment he realised that he had lost Adam. A chance meeting with a stranger had achieved what his parents couldn't, the final estrangement of two former boyfriends. In his heart of hearts Jack knew he had lost, but was prepared to give it one more go. He started playing footsie under the table. That was a pre-arranged signal that he wanted to go off to the boiler room. In earlier days it had been used as non-verbal communication to prevent their friends from discovering their intentions before they were out. Adam replied with a wan smile. They stacked their trays and made their way outside. Looking around to check whether anyone was watching them as they slipped down the steps, pushed open the boiler room door and closed it behind them. The only light came from the gauges, switches and dials of the machinery, but after a few moments it was sufficient. Jack pushed his ex against the wall and kissed him. They could taste the spaghetti bolognese on each other's lips. He slowly slid his hand up between Adam's legs and caressed the bulge he found there. Between panting breaths he whispered

"I want to suck you, Adam."

"You can try, but..." Jack kissed him into silence. He released the belt on Adam's trousers and pulled down the zip and in one familiar movement lowered his trousers and slip. He knelt before Adam and started to work first his balls, then his dick, but nothing happened. If anything, Adam's dick shrivelled rather than stiffened.

"It's no good, Jack. I can't do it. I can't get it hard." In the dim light he saw Jack's disappointment. He took Adam's hand and placed it between his own legs. He could feel Jack's throbbing stiffie waiting to be released, then sucked or wanked off, but that was the limit of any passion that afternoon. "I'm sorry, Jack. I'm not in the mood. You're going to have to find another boyfriend." He took in a deep breath and released it in a long sigh. In the distance they could hear the bell for afternoon lessons.

The afternoon periods dragged even more slowly than the morning ones. Adam wanted to catch Jack by their lockers before they went home. He knew he had to be quick as Jack's mother was always outside the school sharp at a quarter to four to pick him up in case he should linger behind and indulge his lascivious passion. As sod's law would have it Adam's lesson ended late and on his arrival at the lockers he was confronted by a gaggle of his year group. Immediately he thought the worst, that this was some kind of lynch party, but as he arrived the group parted with sheepish looks on their faces and as they parted Adam saw the point of their interested. Across the two doors scrawled in large letters with black indelible marker was the word 'Cocksuckers'. His face blanched, he stood stock still for five seconds, turned and fled, running along the corridor and into the nearest toilet where he locked himself into one of the cubicles. He pulled down the seat cover, sat down and burst into loud sobs.

How long he was there he didn't know. Eventually he heard a girl's voice trying to coax him out. He finally gave in, unlocked and opened the door and to add to all his troubles discovered that in his blind panic he had run into the adjacent girls' toilets. Oh, the humiliation. Mandy told him to dry his eyes and wash his face. She would stand guard. After he'd dried his face she took him by the hand and led him back to the lockers. The gaggle had in the meantime split and he was confronted by the Deputy Head taking photos of the offending graffiti and flanked by a cleaner and maintenance man armed with detergent and paint, ready to make good the damage to the school fabric. It was now his duty to make good the damage to one school pupil and the school's dignity. The forensics over he thanked Mandy and gently led Adam to his office. Once there he sat him down, disappeared for a moment and returned from the Common Room with a mug of tea for Adam. While he was drinking it the Deputy Head looked up and read Adam's records on his computer. He spoke to him in a kindly manner, asked how he felt and whether anything similar had happened before. In return Adam told him of the incident at the orphanage. He rang the orphanage, recounted what had happened at school, said he would bring Adam back and asked to speak to the house parents when he did. Better composed by now Adam was ready to go back. The Deputy took him to his car and drove him back to the house.

They were met at the door by Mrs Beadle who ushered them both into the office which was overheated in an attempt to dry out the damage that had been caused the previous night. Adam said thank you and goodbye to the Deputy Head who continued to hold discussions with Mr and Mrs Beadle. After supper Mr and Mrs Beadle sought out Adam and took him to the office where Benji was waiting. All four went inside. After the preliminaries they got down to serious discussions. Benji had discovered the miscreants' bucket had been taken from the cleaners' cupboard on the second floor. It was therefore likely, but not exclusive proof that one or both roomed there. The rooms there as on the first floor housed three residents. Those on the top floor housed two or one, reserved for the seniors. From the description the culprits were unlikely to have come from among them. If they had come from the first or second floor one inhabitant had remained in bed and had had nothing to do with the prank. Mr Beadle had a copy of the house roll in front of him with certain names highlighted and others crossed through. Adam was unable to read them.

"The next step," said Mr Beadle "is an assumption. Because of the incident at school it is likely that the perpetrators go to your school, Adam, but this is circumstantial evidence, not proof positive. Now, Adam, Iwant you to say absolutely nothing about this at all, unless it is to me, Mrs Beadle or Benji, and then only in private. Benji, I want you to look at this list. There are ten names highlighted. They are the second floor boys who go to Adam's school. After house meeting I want you to tell me if they mean anything to you and I want you to keep an eye on them while I'm talking about this incident."

"I think we can eliminate those two str8away. They're out, they're happy with it and it's unlikely that they'd turn against their brothers."

"Good. That cuts it down to eight. Benji, we'll talk again after house meeting." Benji left with Mrs Beadle.

"Adam, I'm going to ask you some personal questions. You don't have to answer them, but it might be helpful if you do." Adam nodded his assent and understanding. "I understand the graffiti at school was scrawled over two lockers, yours and another boy's?"

"Yes, it belongs to Jack Stropp."

"And he's a friend?"

"Yes, he is... no, was my best friend."

"And you've fallen out?"

"No, not at all." Adam hesitated. He didn't know what he should or shouldn't say. He didn't know how to say it. "We were... umm... busted and his parents stopped him from seeing me... except that they couldn't stop us from meeting at school, but it wasn't the same. That was before my parents died. We naturally grew apart... because of that and because of his parents and then I met somebody else."

"Somebody in this house?"

"Oh, no. Someone I met outside."

"And you still meet?"

"No. I know his name and I know he lives somewhere in the town, but I've never seen him since."

"And you'd like to?" Adam blushed.

"After my parents and Jack, yes, I'd like to, but the only chance is if I go running in the park and he happens to be running at the same time."

"How old is he?"

"My age, I would guess." Mr Beadle looked relieved.

"Is this generally known?"

"What?"

"That you're gay."

"Oh, yes. My parents were good about the whole affair, the news soon got round school - I don't know how - and everyone seemed okay with it. Apart from these two."

"Careful. I said there is no absolute proof that these two incidents are connected. Has anyone either here or at school been openly antagonistic towards you?"

"No. That's why this came as such a shock to me. I'm prepared to stand up for myself, but it's impossible if it's all so sneaky and anonymous." Adam looked downcast when he said that. "Can I see the names on that list, please?"

"Not yet. I want you to come unprejudiced to this business. If you knew the names you might start imagining things and of the ten at least seven, and maybe all ten, are innocent." Adam got up to leave.

"Thank you, Mr Beadle, for your help in what's going on."

"Before you go, Adam, take a look at this." He handed Adam a piece of paper, a photocopy of a letter. "You don't need to read it now, but let me know what you think in the morning as I'll have to reply." He took the folded piece of paper and thanked Mr Beadle again.

Back in his room Adam lay on his bed and read the letter. Andy and Matt were elsewhere. They were considerate towards him, but he was the newcomer, the interloper, their friendship was well established before he arrived on the scene and in the final analysis they were str8 and he was gay. Two's company, three's a crowd. There was a damp musty smell in the atmosphere as the room was still drying out after the previous night's incident. He got off his bed wide eyed, walked over to his desk and switched on the desk lamp in order to read it better. It was a request from a local businessman who was searching for a companion for his fourteen year old son. It would involve living in the household, first as a guest and if all went well as the businessman's ward. The suitable candidate would attend school with his son, receive an allowance with the possibility of travel. 'I wonder,' thought Adam. 'I obviously don't fit in here at the moment and after six months I can't say I've formed any attachment to the place yet. I don't fit in at school at the moment either and it would enable me to make the final break with Jack without hurting him too much.' His mind went back to the boiler room incident where Jack couldn't arouse him. With all the other things going on he hadn't paid it any attention, he hadn't realised its significance. Whatever Jack felt for him, the relationship was dead. And when did it die? Saturday afternoon when he met Simon. But that was a chimera. He would never see Simon again. Despite the invitation he would never call by at the orphanage. Why should he? He had everything he wanted - except of course a mother. This was a chance for Adam to make a fresh start on his own terms. This was the way out of the ghetto. He still had his homework to do. He would see MrBeadle immediately after breakfast. He locked the letter in his desk drawer and t ook his books out of his backpack.

House meeting was at nine, ten o'clock on Fridays and Saturdays or during the school holidays. All forty residents and the duty care staff would assemble then. It was a time for admin, but more importantly to check that all were present and well. Some boys were already changed for bed and wore their regulation dressing gowns. Oddly nightwear was the only regulation issue in the house, not that it was compulsory to wear it, dressing gowns apart when in the public areas of the house. Adam preferred to wear a tee shirt and boxers in bed. Some of the more extrovert slept naked. There was little privacy in communal living, another reason to make that application, thought Adam.

When the residents were assembled Mr Beadle accompanied by his wife called for silence. Adam had placed himself in a corner at the back. In that way he couldn't see the reactions on the faces. Benji had positioned himself so that he could view and report any reaction. He also knew who to look at. Mr Beadle came to the point he wanted make.

"In our community we have to learn tolerance and by and large we achieve that here. It is therefore particularly painful for me to have to talk about a premeditated incident which took place last night. I expect you will know that I am referring to a bucket of water being thrown into a room last night, aggravated by what can only be described as a homophobic slogan." The room was absolutely silent, the silence caused by the communal conscience involving itself in soul-searching. "As well as being an attack on our community there is the practical consideration that in a building like this such an action can in the months ahead set off an infestation of dry rot with the expense and disruption that would cause." Mr Beadle paused to let the import of his words sink in. He continued. "As if that were not enough, there was another homophobic attack on the same person... or persons... at one school this afternoon. I should like to think that they were coincidental and had nothing to do with one another. I should like to think so." Another pause. "If anyone would like to come and enlighten me, I shall be in the office." No more was said. Mr Beadle could never be accused of overkill. With muffled whispering the meeting dispersed for cocoa and biscuits.

Adam joined Matt and Andy in their room. It was the first time they had been together and could exchange notes. None of them had heard anything on the grapevine. Andy and Matt wanted to know what had happened at school. Adam told them about the graffiti. He didn't mention Jack. After a chat Adam sat at his desk. He still had homework to complete. He wondered whether Benji had spotted anything. The other two lay on their beds reading. They were expected to be quiet after ten and have their lights out by eleven. Usually a member of the care staff would put their head round the door to make sure everything was all right. The aim was to create a homely atmosphere; it was not after all a boarding school.

The following morning Adam got up as usual, got dressed in his school uniform, pushed the letter into his inside jacket pocket and went down to breakfast. Once he had finished he waited in the queue outside the office.

"Good morning, Mr Beadle."

"Good morning, Adam. I haven't any news for you yet, but I assume you have some for me."

"Yes," he said pulling out the letter. "I'd like to try for this, but do you think it will make a difference, the fact I'm gay?"

"In these enlightened times they are not allowed to ask the question and by law it shouldn't. If you wish to inform them at any stage that is your business, but I would advise against it."

"How do I apply?"

"You write a letter and fill in a form, a copy of which I shall give you. If you would like to and are that keen, come and see me when you get back from school and we can get it in this evening's post. But don't get your hopes up too soon. You will no doubt have to go for an interview and there will no doubt be competition. Oh, and by the way, it's not unusual for us to rehouse boys in a suitable foster home."

"Okay, thanks, Mr Beadle. I'll see you then." His mind occupied by something positive, Adam had forgotten the trials of the day before.

When he got to school he was soon reminded of them by the questions asked, especially by Jack who of course had known nothing about the graffiti after being in such a hurry to appease his mother. The locker doors were still a bit sticky after being treated, but the boys coped. They had some unfinished business and at morning break Adam said that under the circumstances they could no longer be boyfriends, but perhaps they could continue to be friends. He didn't mention Simon and he didn't put the word 'best' in front of friends. He knew that without the blessing of Mr and Mrs Stropp that would be impossible. They had lunch together, but with other friends. Strangely the Headmaster hadn't mentioned the graffiti at assembly, but there might be reasons for that. Back at the house Mr Beadle was as good as his word in helping Adam and the letter was duly posted that evening.

Before doing his homework Adam climbed the stairs to find Benji. Luckily he was in his room.

"Come in, Adam."

"Is there any news?"

"Nothing positive. The chief suspects appeared as shocked as the majority. I say as the majority for there was one boy who looked sheepish while his sidekick's face remained stony and inexpressive. Again these are pointers, not proof. I'm waiting for the grapevine to produce something and when I get the chance I'm going to ask their roommate whether he heard anything that night. But it shows how misled we might have been that night. These two live on the first floor and they don't go to your school."

"So if it is them, the two incidents are entirely separate?"

"If..." replied Benji. "...and our original assumptions were all wrong."

As in all communities any scandal is short lived as life goes on and new problems and points of interest arise. So it was both in the orphanage and at school. The communal memory is short. The warning seemed sufficient to prevent any further discrimination against Adam. At least that was positive. In the orphanage the 'out' residents closed ranks, made sure that Adam was protected and any antigay comments about anybody or anything were soon squashed by the Rainbow Brigade, as they unofficially named themselves. On Friday Adam received a letter inviting him to go for interview after his application to act as a companion. A taxi would call at the orphanage at 2 pm, transport him to the address at the top of the letter and in due time return him to the orphanage. He showed the letter to Mr Beadle who for security reasons entered the details into the day book. Adam was exhilarated, the only drawback being that he could not take his Saturday afternoon run through the park in the vain hope of meeting Simon again.

"What shall I wear, Mr Beadle?"

"This may sound old fashioned, but you want to create a good impression. So I suggest formal trousers, jacket and tie. Have you got a suit?"

"Not really. The nearest is my school uniform."

"Then it's school uniform, Adam."

Saturday morning he went for a run through the park, but no Simon. Was he becoming obsessed? He had survived his passion for Jack, he had the possibility of a new life with a new family. Perhaps he should forget Simon. The great thing about running was that he could exercise the brain at the same time as the body and he tried to anticipate the questions he would be asked and what questions he should prepare. He'd try and get hold of Benji on his return to see if he had any advice. He'd done university interviews. Back at the orphanage he showered and decided not to climb into his school uniform until after lunch. He did not want too many enquiries and Matt and Andy knew where he was going anyway. Saturday lunch was always a thin affair. Boys were out for the day or weekend with their relations, or were playing in matches for their school or club. He managed to get a seat next to Benji who gave him some general encouragement for the interview and had absolutely nothing further to say about the flooding incident. That was dead.

"Remember," said Benji "that you are interviewing them as much as they are interviewing you, and that you want to be assured that you're going to fit in all right and about what would happen if you didn't." Lunch over, Adam went upstairs to change and at a quarter to two sat in the front hall waiting for his taxi.

At dead on two o'clock the taxi arrived and whipped him off past the park to a part of town he didn't know. The houses were big and set in large plots of ground. The taxi dropped him outside one of the larger ones.

"That's the one," said the taxi driver. "I'll wait for you here." With slight butterflies in his stomach Adam marched up to the front door and rang the bell. The door was opened by a wizened old man with a sparkle in his eye, who was dressed in a black jacket, pinstripe trousers, white shirt and black tie.

"Good afternoon, sir."

"Master Neave?"

"Yes."

"My name's Brabazon. Do come in."

"Thank you, Mr Brabazon."

"No, just Brabazon. I'm Mr van den Berg's butler. That is the correct way to address a butler."

"Sorry, Brabazon," said Adam, never having met a real live butler before. He showed him into the library.

"I shall prepare a pot of tea and call you through when it's brewed." Adam was amazed at the library. Tall shelves filled with books covered the walls. The room was furnished with a writing desk and chair, a brown leather settee and armchair, and a coffee table. On the coffee table were some magazines. He sat in the armchair and browsed through them. Country Life , the county magazine, and what was this? GY , a magazine for gay youth. He had heard of it, but never seen a copy and never worked up sufficient courage to buy it. He liked what he saw, not just the centrefold, but the articles giving lifestyle advice. He was so engrossed that he didn't notice Brabazon arrive to announce that the tea had brewed. He blushed as he replaced the copy of GY on the coffee table.

"Would you follow me through to my pantry, Master Neave?" A pantry to Adam was a place where food was stored, but when he arrived there he realised the butler's pantry was the kitchen, the centre of domestic operations. It was a large one with a long scrubbed wooden table in the centre. Brabazon bade him sit down. He poured the tea, using a strainer and carefully adding the milk to the tea. Sugar was in cubes in a dainty sugar bowl accompanied by a pair of tongs. Adam was still in awe.

"Mr van den Berg offers his apologies that he and his son cannot be here this afternoon, but they have a prior engagement. He proposes to conduct this meeting in two parts. In the way that he delegates the hiring of domestic staff to me he wishes me to see each applicant initially. I draw up a short list and those on it will meet Mr van den Berg personally and the final decision will be his and his son's." Brabazon offered Adam a biscuit. "Mr van den Berg hails from South Africa where he is head of a substantial company and often has to go there for business. That is why he feels it advisable for his son to have a companion." Brabazon continued to ask questions that led Adam to talk about himself and his background. "Now, Master Neave, if you have finished your tea, I shall take you on a conducted tour." It started in the basement where there was a swimming pool and a games room, up to the ground floor with its sitting room, television room, studies and dining room, out onto the terrace with a view of the garden and finally up the wide staircase to a landing off which there were six bedrooms and a communal bathroom with jacuzzi. Brabazon opened one of the rooms. "This, Master Neave, has been reserved for the successful applicant." The room was twice the size of his at the orphanage which accommodated three. It contained a walk in wardrobe, a kingsize bed and a large desk with computer. On the shelves were a hi-fi system and a television. A door led into the en suite bathroom. Adam did not know what to say. Brabazon conducted him back to his pantry and brewed another pot of tea. "Master Neave, if you have any questions that I can answer, you are free to ask, but before you do I must take a photograph to put with your ap plication." That done, Adam asked his questions, particularly what happened next. "I shall speak to Mr van den Berg next week to draw up the short list. If you are successful you will be invited back to meet Mr van den Berg and his son. Then a final decision will be made."

The interview was at an end. Brabazon made small talk until they had finished their tea. He accompanied Adam to the waiting taxi, paid the driver the agreed fare, shook Adam's hand and wished him all the best and stood there until the taxi had disappeared round the corner.

Back at the orphanage Adam climbed out of the taxi, thanked the driver and walked through the door as if on air. Whether he had done well or not, Brabazon had made him feel as if he had, which is the art of good interviewing, he supposed. He knocked on Mr Beadle's door to let him know he was back and what had happened.

"Just keep your fingers crossed now, Adam, but don't be too disappointed if you don't get it."

When he got back to his room Andy and Matt were there looking pretty pleased with themselves. Before Adam could tell them about his afternoon Matt said

"I don't think we need worry any more about buckets of water in the middle of the night. We've sorted the culprits out..."

"...and we've got their baseball caps to prove it," added Andy, waving them in the air.

"What did you do?"

"Not very much," said Matt. "A little detective work."

"They go to our school," said Andy "and were stupid enough to start mouthing off what they'd done when they thought they'd got away with it."

"One of their mates asked us if it was true, not realising it was our room as well as yours, and that was it."

"They might have been heroes among the homophobes at school, but they weren't heroes when we followed them into the cellar this afternoon and it was just them and us."

"What did you do to make them cough?"

"Not a lot," said Matt. "It gets awfully wet in that cellar. We just showed them the key..."

"Tut tut, Matt, tell the truth... a key."

"Sorry pardon, a key, and said they had the choice of making a full confession to Mr and Mrs Beadle or the key being handed over to the Rainbow Brigade," continued Andy.

"They conferred for a moment and decided on confronting the Beadles."

"Not only that, they asked us to look after their ballcaps as a pledge of their good faith and to hand them over to the Rainbow Brigade if for some reason neither of the Beadles were available by house meeting tonight." The boys looked pretty pleased with themselves.

"And has the shit hit the fan yet?" enquired Adam.

"Mmm, haven't heard anything yet, but there's another five hours to go," said Matt.

"And not a drop of blood spilt," added Andy, "...yet."

"Do I need to know names?" asked Adam.

"Not at the moment. You'll soon find out," said Matt. Adam was impressed with the teamwork of the two. He realised that he was very much the 'three's a crowd', but then he had his own furrow to plough, especially if the afternoon had been successful for him. He told his roommates about it, but felt it was an anticlimax after their nailing of the bucket men.

Time can move slowly, especially when you're young and waiting for something to happen. If the van den Bergs had others to interview it would take a week or more to get through them and form the short list. Adam buried himself in his schoolwork and tried to keep his relationship with Jack on an even keel. It was difficult when Jack had his parents breathing down his neck. They were even talking of sending him away on a rehabilitation course to 'cure' him of his homosexuality. If they can cure it, why can't they vaccinate against it, he had had the temerity to ask them. Adam saw himself becoming Jack's social worker or counsellor. He did not talk to him about his own possible future. The evil was sufficient unto the day thereof. Only Adam was going from strength to strength because he had hope, something to strive towards. 'It would take two years to get over his parents' death' was beginning to ring hollow in his ears. It was Jack's life that was beginning to look bleak.

Adam was amazed to arrive back at the house on Tuesday to find a letter waiting for him. It was from Mr van den Berg's secretary inviting him to attend a second interview on Saturday afternoon. Another chance to meet Simon passed up, but he had no choice but to accept. As on the previous occasion a taxi would collect him from the orphanage at 2 pm. Elated as he was, the wheels of time ran even slower. He imparted his good news to the Beadles, Benji, Andy and Matt. He still did not talk to Jack about it. When Saturday finally came, it was the same routine: run through the park, no Simon, shower, change, lunch and change again into school uniform. The only difference was that two bad tempered residents were on heavy duties for the whole weekend, helping with the laundry, cleaning and with clearing meals. They glared whenever they saw Adam and mouthed obscenities. They were of the same medium height and not wearing baseball caps. Everyone in the house knew that they were marked men after being forced to confess their prank of soaking Adam's, Andy's and Matt's room. There was a certain irony in their having to wear pink plastic pinafores while they worked, not to point them out, but because they were the only ones the local authorities supplied the house with. Adam, however, had great inner strength and to their annoyance could even raise a smile. There was a car hooting from outside. Adam's taxi had arrived. He rushed out to see it was the same driver as the previous week.

They arrived at the van den Bergs' house. Adam climbed out while the taxi waited. He strode up to the front door and rang the bell. It was answered by the butler.

"Good afternoon, Master Neave."

"Good afternoon, Brabazon"

"Please come in." He was shown into the library. "I shall inform Mr van den Berg of your arrival." Adam noticed that there were no magazines on the coffee table this time. He was surprised to see through the window Brabazon paying off the taxi. He returned to the house and two minutes later the library door opened and there stood a middle aged man with a kindly face and dressed in a dark blue three piece suit.

"Adam?" He extended his hand. "My name is van den Berg."

"How do you do, Mr van den Berg," replied Adam filled with the confidence that the man exuded. Mr van den Berg turned and called through the door into the hall

"Brabazon, would you bring us a pot of tea, please?" He made general conversation until the tea arrived, largely confirming what Brabazon had told him about the previous Saturday's interview. After the tea had been poured, Brabazon left closing the door behind him. "He was butler to my father before me and with my son that makes three generations. Not a bad record, eh?" Adam nodded his agreement. "Now, Adam, since you have come back to see us, I assume you are seriously interested in becoming my son's companion?"

"Yes, that's right."

"Even though you haven't met him yet?"

"I wouldn't make a final decision without meeting him."

"You'll do that in a minute, but there is one question I must put to you and I want you to consider your reply very carefully. My son is gay. Have you any difficulties with that? I need an honest answer, not only because of your relationship with him, but because the happiness of my son is the most important thing in my life, more important than my business interests."

"Mr van den Berg, I am gay myself."

"We thought so." Adam blushed. Was it so obvious, he thought to himself. "No need to be embarrassed. We set you a little test. Do you remember when Brabazon showed you in here last week? There were three magazines on the table. Which one did you read?" Adam didn't have to think in order to answer.

"GY ."

"Precisely. Therefore we thought you would be compatible."

"Were there any other tests?"

"Just one, but we'll tell you about that later. Now it's time for you to meet him." Mr van den Berg took Adam through the house towards the terrace. As they walked through the conservatory and out of the French windows the sun burst through the clouds. "Adam, you see the summer house? He's in there waiting for you." He couldn't see anything happening because of the sun's reflection on the glass. He walked across the lawn by himself as Mr van den Berg remained on the terrace. A strange thought came into his mind. Not once had he been told the son's name, as if there had been a conspiracy of silence, but on the other hand he hadn't asked. It was too late now. The walk seemed to last an eternity, his feet felt as if weighed down with lead. Finally he reached the summer house, the door opened and a dog slipped out, a young blue roan spaniel who came up to Adam sniffed him, then welcomed him as a long lost friend. Close behind came van den Berg junior and as Adam looked up from greeting the dog his jaw dropped to recognise Simon. They rushed to greet one another in a hug and Lucy jumped around the pair in excitement. Tears filled both boys' eyes as they went into the summer house. They didn't notice Brabazon standing next to Mr van den Berg on the terrace.

The boys talked nineteen to the dozen and amidst all the excitement neither posed the most important question of all. Did they want to become companions? Finally when they calmed down Simon took Adam by the hand and led him back to the house.

"Dad, Adam and I have found one another. It really is him." Mr van den Berg took both boys in a hug. "Can he sleep over for the night? Sorry, Adam, would you like to?"

"I'm expected back at the orphanage and I've got no overnight things, but yes, I'd like to, sure."

"I'll telephone Mr Beadle and ask his permission," said Mr van den Berg. Five minutes later he came back and announced "It's fixed. You're free till any time tomorrow up to house meeting. I've had a word with Brabazon and he'll sort out your room and find some clothes for you. You don't want to hang around in your school uniform all weekend now, do you? Simon, go and help Adam settle in and we'll expect you for supper at seven."

The boys appeared in the dining room just before seven. Mr van den Berg and Adam had changed into more casual attire. Brabazon was ready to serve. Lucy was in her basket at the other end of the dining room. When Brabazon had left, Mr van den Berg said

"I gather the question is answered already, but I'm asking it again officially. Adam, would you like to come and live here as Simon's companion?"

"Very much so," answered Adam with full conviction. Simon clapped his hands.

"And Simon, would you like to accept Adam as your live-in companion?"

"I would, Dad."

"Adam, are you happy with the conditions set out in the original offer, that you go to Simon's school, that we offer you an allowance and look after you as one of the family, and that if all works out well, you become my ward under an adoption scheme?"

"I would be honoured," answered Adam.

"I think there's about a week, ten days of term left. There will be legal papers to sign and you will have to live in the orphanage until that side is settled. We'll register you at Simon's school for next term. That can go ahead even if the legalities aren't settled." Brabazon came in to clear and serve the next course. "Have you any questions, Adam?"

"You said earlier that you had set me another test? What was that?" Mr van den Berg cleared his throat and Brabazon disappeared back to his pantry.

"Adam, we may not have been one hundred per cent honest with you. The short answer is that Brabazon took a photo of you during your first interview. There is a longer answer. Do you want to give it, Simon, or shall I?"

"You tell it, Dad."

"Okay, son. You'll both recall the day when you first met and ended up by the wishing well in the park. Simon came home and said 'I've met this fantastic boy while I was running and he lives in an orphanage. Is there anything we can do to help him?' I promised to give it some thought and talked it over with Brabazon. We came up with the idea of possible adoption. We knew that things were not easy for you after Mum died and I was on my travels. The only thing we knew about you, Adam, was your name, you're gorgeous..." Adam blushed, "... and that you lived in the orphanage on the other side of the hill. So we hit on the idea of advertising for a companion, and this was where we were dishonest. We only sent the letter to your orphanage with the thought that if you saw it you would apply if interested. And so you were the only applicant. I wanted Brabazon to see you first. He deals with all our domestic appointments and his judgement of character has never failed us yet. There was no photo with your application - we didn't ask for one - and so we wanted to make sure we had the right person, which fortunately we did. We also wanted to make sure that there was no pressure on you to join our family and that is why you didn't meet Simon until the last minute and we withheld his name." With hindsight it seemed so obvious to Adam now. "We can only apologise if we misled you and I promise it won't happen again. This family does not normally run like that."

The dining room door opened again and with a gentle cough to announce his presence Brabazon served the pudding.

"Adam, do you remember the wishing well? You wouldn't tell me your wish or it wouldn't come true."

"And you said 'you'll find out if my wish comes true'."

"Well, it has today," said Simon.

"And I can now tell you my wish because it's now come true. It was for us to meet again. I thought it was never going to happen."

"Well, boys, go and enjoy the rest of the evening. I'm going to be in my study if you want me. And try to give Brabazon some time to himself."

Simon and Adam went to the television room and watched a DVD together sitting on the couch. It was during the film that they had their first kiss. At eleven they decided it was time for bed. Simon took Adam to his room, wished him good night and went to his own. Adam cleaned his teeth in the en suite bathroom, took all his clothes off and climbed into the kingsize bed. He put the light out and was just about to fall asleep when he heard a door open and out of the bathroom appeared Simon. In the dim light Adam could make out he was equally naked.

"How did you get in here?"

"Didn't you notice? There's a communicating door. Why do you think I chose this room for you?" Adam pulled back the duvet and invited Simon to snuggle up against him.

On Sunday evening Mr van den Berg put the two boys in his car and ran Adam back to the orphanage. He had an appointment with Mr and Mrs Beadle to initiate fostering arrangements, later to be followed by adoption if all went well. In his hand Adam carried a small case in which was his school uniform, washed, cleaned and neatly pressed by Brabazon.

Adam didn't tell any of his school chums that he was changing schools until the last day of term. The first to know was Jack. He had gone to school early to make sure he would catch him by their lockers.

"Jack, I've got something to tell you. I'm leaving school today." Jack was visibly surprised. "I'm being fostered and have to go to a new school. It means I'll be leaving the orphanage. I just want to say goodbye... and thanks for being a friend. I'm sorry it didn't work out. I hope things won't be too bad for you at home." He kissed Jack on the cheek. If the others saw, so what? He was on his way and everyone knew they were gay anyway.

"Adam, I've got something to tell you. You know when 'Cocksuckers' was written across our lockers?" There was a pause. "That was me. I did it." Now it was Adam's turn to appear surprised. "Don't say anything. Listen to me. You know it was that day we split up. I was so angry - not only at that - parents, everything. What I wanted to write was 'Cocksuckers rule. Okay!', but someone came along before I could finish and I scarpered. That does make a difference, doesn't it?" Adam just looked sceptical.

"It might have made a difference if you'd told me right away. Goodbye, Jack."

The next few days were busy as Adam had to pack up his things and move them across to his new home. Finally he took his farewells and said his thank yous: to the Beadles and the other staff, to Benji, to Andy and Matt. He didn't notice that two were missing when the climbed into the taxi and the community waved goodbye.

We support Ukraine — Мы поддерживаем Украину — Ми підтримуємо Україну

We support Ukraine — Мы поддерживаем Украину — Ми підтримуємо Україну

Iomfats.org

Out of the Ghetto

by N Fourbois