the-island-1the-island-1

Amateur

Subject: The Island Chapter 1 Island of Boys Fate landed my at age 40 with a problem I has wished for but never expected to get. I won the Euro Lottery. I got about 100 million Euros. Lucky Man, you would say – but no, I wasn’t happy and the thought of having all that cash was playing on my conscience. Myself. well, I’m 40 as I said. Straight and lonely. Six years ago my wife left me. It happens. We were in love but it ran out, and so did she, went off with a businessman in the town. I wasn’t greatly upset when she went, the marriage had been going downhill since she discovered she was unable to have kids. The point of marriage had gone. Last I heard she was living the life of Riley somewhere in the South of France. Good luck to her I say. Anyway, all this money. I had offloaded quite a large amount to various charities that I felt were really worthy of support, but the investment of the lottery winnings was actually making more money that I could spend, or give away. What I needed was some grand philanthropic scheme that would keep me occupied and provide a haven for needy people. For weeks I had thought up and discarded many semi crackpot ideas and now the ideas were wearing thin. Eventually, my love of children and the fact I couldn’t have any ( apart from the gold digger women who knew of my lottery win who offered all sorts of ‘favours’ in order to get my cash) led me to think that some sort of children’s haven for orphans, children from under privileged backgrounds and suchlike, may be the way forward. I had always encouraged diversity – well before ‘WOKE’ became a fad – and had friends of different ethnic backgrounds and people who had alternative lifestyles. But here was a paradox. People like this found their own niche, but children had a greater problem of acceptance. I needed to find a way to help disadvantaged kids find their own place in the world. Slowly the idea of making a refuge somewhere for these children formulated in my mind. Key to the project was my sister. She left school and became a nurse, later the matron in charge at a major children’s hospital. She had her own children but now was looking for employment again as her children had fled the nest. I discussed the matter with my sister (Annie) and she was keen on the idea. Over the next few months I formulated detailed plans which developed into a children’s retreat, one for boys and for girls. The biggest problem was finding premises suitable for the centres to be established. A couple of months down the line and I had made no progress in finding premises for the project. Disappointed and bored I decided to take myself for a break away from everything and just relax. That wasn’t quite so easy to do as the fuel crisis was still causing disruption in travel matters. I packed a couple of cases and drove off heading for the South west of England. In Devon, near the small town of Crumphampton I stopped at a wayside inn for lunch. Roadside restaurants are usually terrible, in as much as you can have what you want so long as it is a burger or a pizza. The wayside inn usually produces something more satisfying and so it was today. Meat pie and a pint was just what was needed. Only the one pint as I was driving. The landlord was chatty, in between serving other customers and asked what I was doing there. I explained that I was looking for premises for a children’s refuge and he told me of a disused hotel on Boyes Island, some five miles away. It sounded intriguing, an island? After my lunch I followed the landlord’s directions to the island. It wasn’t exactly an island, there was a causeway that linked it to the mainland, which disappeared at high tide for bursa escort a while. Approach to the place was down a narrow track that had a palisade fence across it with a locked gate. As I inspected the padlock it fell open and allowed my access. In the corner of my vision I thought I saw a person moving around near the buildings and was thus wary of possible trespassers in the site. Anyhow, I drove through the gate and parked in front of the hotel. It was obviously recently closed as there was no sign on decay or damage to the place. As I approached the front door I was startled by a young voice that said ‘Hello!’ from behind me. I nearly shat myself with the shock, but turned to see a teenaged boy with rather unkempt hair standing there. He looked friendly and intelligent, but slightly careworn and dishevelled, but that is often usual for a teenager. Seeing my startled expression he quickly introduced himself, ‘I’m Carlo, I live here, sorry I made you jump!’ ‘What do you mean, you live here? ‘ I asked him. ‘Well.’ he answered’ I ran away from home and was squatting here and the owner found me. He wasn’t angry as I hadn’t done any damage and had kept the place tidy, so he let’s me stay here and I am sort of caretaker and guard until it gets sold. Then I’ll have to move on, I suppose.’ ‘Do you have keys and everything?’ I asked, he nodded an produced a complete set of jailer’s keys on a huge metal loop. ‘Will you show me around then please?’ . He nodded and set off for the entrance. Inside everything was clean and intact, as though the hotel guests were due back any minute. The place was a little dated, but acceptable and Carlo was obviously keeping the place in order. The owner must trust him with the keys and the contents of the place, who knows what havoc a teenage boy could wreak on a place like this. But there was something about Carlo, he was friendly and intelligent, well spoken and respectful. I wondered what drama had unfolded in his life that made him leave home at 16 years old. The grand tour done, Carlo asked me if I would like a coffee. ‘Yes, please!’ I replied. Carlo disappeared into the restaurant area and returned shortly with two coffees and placed them on a low table by a couch in the reception area. ‘So, are you thinking of buying this place?’ Carlo asked. ‘I am looking for a place, yes. This may be right for what I am looking for , I need to check planning and all that.’ ‘So you’re not going to run it as a hotel then? What do you have in mind, if you want to tell me that is?’ I told him the idea of a retreat and refuge for teenagers, who have suffered some sort of trauma in their lives. somewhere they could go and get their lives back on track. Carlo listened intently, as I spoke, a tear appeared in his eye, which he wiped away with his knuckle. ‘Can I ask, ‘I looked him straight in the face, ‘What happened to you that brought you here. I get the feeling that you would be the sort of young person I will be trying to help?’ Carlo looked down at his hands, clasped around his coffee cup. His mouth was forming words, but no sound came out for a minute or so. ‘My name isn’t really Carlo’, he said, ‘It’s Charles. Carlo was my nickname from when I was little. MY father died a few years ago and my stepfather sent me away to boarding school. It wasn’t too bad at first, then the other boys found out I was a little different.’ MY expression was enough to make him sigh, catch a deep breath before continuing. ‘I’m gay!’ He announced, ‘There were a number in the school, but there was a very macho attitude there and if you weren’t into Rugby and ‘manly’ pursuits, then you became a victim of the bullying. To cut a long bursa escort bayan story short, I couldn’t take it any more. I left the school and went home. There my Mum and stepfather took my coming out very badly. My stepfather knocked six bags of ‘good for the roses’ out of me and gave me a week to get out and not come back!’ ‘Now here’s the thing, ‘ he added’ I wasn’t just dumped on the street, they gave me money and stuff to get by with, but it was still a major thing to cope with. I found this place a few months ago, it was still functioning then, but I discovered an old caravan near the beach and lived in there until I was discovered. The owner, Mr Carstairs, took pity on me and took me on as ‘odd job man’, gardening and painting and suchlike and set up a apprentice scheme to make it legal. I live in the caretakers lodge now. I get a little money too, which helps. But the Covid pandemic had made the place unprofitable so Mr Carstairs told me that it has to close. He comes around nearly every day to keep an eye on the place.’ Carlo/Charles continued,’ The place has been on the market for a couple of months now. There was only one previous interested party, a developer that wanted to make apartments and build houses on the island, but the planning department turned it down flat. Mr Carstairs was sort of relieved that happened, maybe it will be made into a care home or just a big house for someone, I don’t know’. He looked wistfully through the window towards the beach. My mind was turning somersaults by now. I needed to talk with this Mr Carstairs and put my idea to him. Certainly the place was well maintained and the location was restful and private. Some parts of the island were neglected, but the hotel area and beach were fine. I had another plan too, the boy was very likely to be my first employee! ‘So, Charles,’ I announced, ‘I’m going to call you that , it sounds better than Carlo, that’s more a dodgy footballer! My plan is this, if it works out of course. I shall try and buy this place, for my refuge and make it private but welcoming. The main thing is this, if you are interested, I shall employ you as my apprentice, as Mr Carstairs has done, you stay here and work with me and we will build this project together! What to you think?’ Charles sat open mouthed at my revelation. He sat quietly for a few seconds, before jumping to his feet and coming an hugging me so tightly I could hardly breathe. ‘Thank you !’ he cried, and planted a kiss full on my lips! ‘Steady on, young man!’ I admonished him, ‘You can’t go around kissing strange men! You don’t even know my name yet!’ I pointed out. Euphoria evaporated slowly and we sat down again on the couch to catch our breath. Charles made another coffee for us and whilst he was away, I mulled over the events of the day. I had found the premises, subject to the sale going through, and by default had found an assistant whose personal circumstances would have made him the perfect candidate for my first teenager who needed help, if the tumble of events hadn’t already solved many of his problems. A large Mercedes car pulled up in front of the building and I shouted to Charles to make a third cup as we have a visitor. Charles’ head popped out of the kitchen and he quickly said, ‘Oh, that’s Mr Carstairs!’ I had made that assumption already! I opened the front door and held out my hand to shake that of Mr Carstairs, then the thought of the Covid restrictions turned it quickly into a fist bump. ‘Gareth Henderson’ I introduced myself. ‘Pleased to meet you!’ ‘Roger Carstairs,’ her replied. ‘I see you have met Carlo!’ ‘Yes, I’ve elevated him to Charles, his proper name, much better than escort bursa a playground nickname, don’t you think?’ Sat together in the lounge I explained my quest and how the landlord of the Crumphampton Cross Inn had told me about the place being for sale, and how Charles, formerly Carlo, had shown me around and told me the situation. Roger (Mr Carstairs) showed a lot of interest in my project and said that he thought it would be a good use for the premises in these uncertain times with the remnants of the pandemic still causing problems around the world. He asked how I would fund it and I explained that I had my own resources, without revealing too much about my financial situation to either himself of Charles, who was taking an interest in the conversation. He explained that the Covid troubles had severely impacted the profitability of the hotel and that he (Carstairs) was reaching the point in his life where he really didn’t need great challenges any more and that had prompted him to put the property on the market. For over and hour we talked and by the end of the hour we had agreed a price, much reduced from the asking price as Roger Carstairs was enthused by my project and keen to give it support. Interestingly, Charles’ face was actually beaming with job at the end of the negotiations. He was glad that I had let him be part of the dealings, which I had thought was only fair as he would be the common link in our dealings and I had every intention of making him part of the refuge establishment. Roger Carstairs suggested a glass to celebrate. He went into the kitchen and returned with a bottle of champagne and three glasses. ‘I don’t know if you should really have this Carlo, sorry, Charles!’ he said, ‘Because you are still only 16, which is why I didn’t give you the key to the drinks store! But I’m sure a small glass won’t hurt!’ Charles became a small boy for a moment and giggle, before regaining his composure and commenting, ‘I’ll behave myself, I promise!’ It has been a strange few hours, Charles was rapidly growing in my affections, his fortitude over adversity and general intelligence had intrigued me in the first place, now it was becoming warmer. Had I found a partner in business, or an apprentice, a future manager, a friend, a son or what? Champagne was opened and poured, Charles glass, I noticed, was as full as Roger’s and mine. ‘Here’s to success of the refuge!’ I proposed as a toast. A clink of three glasses and the reply, ‘The refuge!’ Charles tentatively took a sip, evidently he never had champagne before. Then his eyes lit up and he took a good swig.’ Roger and I looked at each other and laughed. ‘Oh dear, said Roger, ‘The boy has expensive tastes!’ Later, after swapping phone numbers and addresses of lawyers and suchlike, Roger Carstairs left us sitting there. In the quiet after the excitement I began to realise that I hadn’t booked accommodation for the evening. I commented on the fact to Charles who pointed out the obvious. ‘You’re already in a hotel, there are plenty of rooms available, or you could stay with me in the caretaker’s flat!’ I said that I would take a room and Charles’ face fell with disappointment. ‘Seriously, Charles, do you think it is a good idea I share with you?’ I queried. He pouted, ‘Why ever not? I’ve been on my own for weeks now and would relish some company!’ I couldn’t deny his logic. Nor could I give a name to the emotion I was feeling at the moment. So I agreed. Within a second I received another kiss on the lips! ‘Steady on! Again! Oh bugger it!’I exclaimed and gave him a kiss back! I wasn’t gay, and had never had any feelings in that direction since my puberty days. But now something had changed and I wasn’t sure what it was. The future was certainly going to be interesting. Please send feedback to the writers at ail Please support Nifty with a donation and keep the site running!

Bir yanıt yazın

E-posta adresiniz yayınlanmayacak. Gerekli alanlar * ile işaretlenmişlerdir