Episode 8 in the Danny and Jack trilogy.
Warning: The following story contains a scene which the vegetarians amongst you may find distressing, as it deals with the torture and subsequent death of a runner bean named Bobby. There is also implied abuse of other vegetables and the gratuitous harassment of a brussel sprout. A helpline number will be given at the end of this episode.
"I'm going to count to three."
Jeez, some people had no sense of humour.
"One."
"Jaack pleease! It was a joke-you know-ha ha!"
"Two."
From my vantage point I could see his right foot tapping impatiently. "I'm not coming out!" My voice echoed eerily in the dusty recesses, "you can't make me."
"Three."
There was a tense silence. My mouth was so dry that my tongue cleaved to the roof of it. Suddenly my ear drums shattered. Jack doesn't shout as such, he has the actors ability to project.
"DANIEL MACINTYRE GET YOUR BACKSIDE OUT FROM UNDER THAT BED NOW! DO YOU HEAR ME?"
Was he serious? They could probably hear him projecting in the Outer Hebrides.
"Jack please, I didn't mean to do it," I, on the other hand, have the cowards ability to grovel. I made my voice as ingratiating as I could, "it's not my fault. You did say anything, you did, admit it."
A large hand suddenly groped under the bed. I let out a shriek, hanging on to the far bed leg for dear life, as it located and gripped my right ankle. Moments later he got a hold of my left ankle and with a tug extracted my lower body from its hiding place. I increased my hold on the bed leg, wrapping both arms around it and hanging on desperately. "You said anything Jack-you did-you did-you-oww...aaah." He got two good smacks at my bottom before I managed to squirm free and snake myself back under the bed.
"Come out from under there at once!"
"Not likely."
"Right," the bed springs creaked and the mattress went down, "I can wait."
Oh God, I leaned my head on my arms, sneezing several times as dust of about fifty years standing, got up my nose. None of this was my fault. Jack had been grouchy all week, snowed under with work for some big contract his company was handling. It was work, work, work and as everyone knows, all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy and Danny a fed up one. It wouldn't have been so bad if I was allowed out, but after the snake pit business, and Jack discovering I had skipped classes next day, I was grounded indefinitely. I hadn't even seen or spoken to Alison.
According to Dennis she had been virtually comatose for two days after our little excursion and was still out of sorts. From what I managed to glean from his phone conversation with Jack, she was giving him a hard time and he was at a loss to understand why. I shook my head when Jack asked if she had confided any concerns to me, adding that no one ever confided anything to me, and it wasn't right. Jack ignored that.
I, at Jack's insistence, and with his hot breath on my neck, had written a letter of apology to Tristan. He had telephoned to acknowledge its arrival, sweetly enquiring whether Jack had finished with his hairbrush? 'Not that I'm in a hurry for its return dear boy,' he had purred down the telephone, 'in fact, tell Jack to consider it a gift with my compliments.' The Bastard!
"I think the telephone is ringing Jack."
"No it isn't."
"Must be the door bell I can hear then."
"You're not getting me out of the room that easily Daniel."
"It was a joke," I whined for the umpteenth time.
"Well I'm not laughing young man, and neither will you be once I get my hands on you. There'll be tears before bedtime, mark my words."
"Aw, there's no need to cry Jack, you can't win all the time. I'm not coming out until you promise not to spank me."
"Better plan on being under there for a long time then."
I knew that had the bed not been made of solid oak, requiring at least three people to shift it, Jack would have flung it aside by now and collared me. I sighed, saying pathetically, "I was bored Jack, you've hardly spoken a word to me all week. I just wanted to get your attention."
"Well you certainly did that!"
"Come on Jaaack, don't you think it's a little bit funny?"
"No."
"You wouldn't even have known if I hadn't told you."
"Yes, but you did tell me Daniel, so I do know, and I'm not happy about it."
"You ate it all, so you must have enjoyed it an itsy bit?"
"I ate it all because I was hungry and I didn't want to hurt your feelings by saying how disgusting it was."
That's my Jack, all caring thoughtfulness.
"However, when I lay hands on you, I'm going to hurt more than your feelings."
Scrap that earlier observation, the man's a beast. I sighed and shifted uncomfortably, I was beginning to get cramp. Why did I do these things? It had seemed like a good idea at the time.
Apart from college, I had been stuck indoors all week. Peter, to my delight, had telephoned to ask if I would like to meet him and Georgie for a Saturday afternoon drink. Bring your partner, they said. Jack politely declined the offer; he had work to do. I got the feeling he wasn't too keen on associating with my new found friends. I'll go on my own then, I had said, optimistically.
For some reason this had amused Jack, 'you will have your little joke won't you?' he had chuckled, patting me playfully on the head. However, he was totally immovable, I was not allowed out.
He wouldn't even let me watch the telly because I was supposed to be working on my impending end of term assignment. By half past five I was ripe for mischief. The opportunity presented itself when Jack momentarily emerged from a mountain of paperwork, to enquire whether there was any danger of me making a cup of tea and some sandwiches.
What kind of sandwiches I asked?
'Anything,' he snapped irritably, 'use your initiative for once Danny.' So I did, and now he was mad at me. There's no pleasing some folk. I watched mesmerised as he munched his way through the pile of sandwiches, barely taking his eyes from the pages in front of him.
"Mmm," he swallowed the last bite and spared me a glance, "they were umm... erm... unusual." He picked delicately at something caught in his teeth. "Was it a new brand of tuna?"
I shook my head, "not exactly," I ventured, beginning to edge out of his study.
"What was it then?"
"Whiskas."
"Whiskas?" A look of puzzlement spread across his face.
I gulped slightly, "pilchard and cod flavour to be exact, with extra vitamins," I added virtuously, knowing how important Jack considered vitamins to be."
"Whiskas?" He repeated quizzically, head on one side. He looked rather sweet.
Then comprehension dawned.
"WHISKAS!" He bellowed, shooting to his feet, "you made cat food sandwiches and then watched me eat them?"
For a moment I thought he was going to vomit. "Well you did say use anything Jack."
He seemed to lose all sense of proportion and decorum. A deep flush, unattractively purple in hue, spread across his face. Clearing the desk in a single bound he lunged for me, yelling, "come here you spawn of Satan!"
I broke my own record for vacating a room and clearing the stairs, hurling myself under the bed just seconds after feeling his hot, fishy, breath against my neck.
His upside down face appeared over the side of the bed. "You can't stay under there forever Danny."
Wanna bet, I thought, but said, "look on the bright side Jack, fish is good for the brain-you said so yourself."
"Not the sort they put in cat food," his eyes narrowed dangerously. I squashed myself further back, making like a coat of gloss and adhering myself to the skirting board.
Finally, after an eternity, the bedsprings creaked as he got up. I heard the loo chain flush, then the sound of footsteps on stairs. I waited for a decent interval to elapse then crawled cautiously from my place of safety. It was good to stretch my cramped limbs. I brushed the accumulated dust of decades from my front and tip toeing to the bedroom door peeped cautiously out onto the landing. Good, all clear, I was bursting for the toilet. I padded softly towards the bathroom.
"GOTCHA!"
I nearly _s_h_i_t_ a bin lid as Jack's tall figure rocketed up in front of me. The rotten bugger had been lying in wait on the stairs. He'd even been doing some work while waiting, evident from the papers scattered about.
In no time at all I was face down across his lap with his large palm pounding a message of disapproval on to my quivering bare botty. Tears before bedtime indeed, and, to add insult to injury, the bedtime was a good few hours earlier than I would have liked.
A lot later on Jack climbed in beside me. "Sorry baby," he said, draping a long arm over and pulling me close. "Been a bit stressed lately."
I was inclined to be huffy, but it was difficult, especially when he started kissing the nape of my neck while tracing a seductive finger down my spine.
Much later, I felt his warmth leave my side. Pleasantly drowsy though I was, I couldn't resist. "What's wrong honey, need to use the cat flap? Maybe we should bring a litter tray up."
There was a pause, then he said , "you really deserved that spanking Daniel."
"Still love me?"
"Yes, but I'm warning you, if I develop a desire to _c_o_c_k_ a leg behind my ear and use my tongue to clean my unmentionables, your life is over!"
We were awoken at six thirty am by the insistent ringing of the telephone.
"Who was it?" I sat up anxiously as Jack came back into the bedroom, "there's nothing wrong with Ally or the kids is there?"
To my relief he shook his head. As relief goes it was short lived.
"It was Tristan."
"Tristan!" The left side of my upper lip curled so high Tony Hawk could have performed a half pipe on it. "Bit early for social calls isn't it? Can't he buy himself a budgie to talk to?"
Jack frowned at me warningly. "He's on his way over. He'll be staying with us for a few days."
I stared closely at Jack. Surely at this point he should be sporting a tri cornered hat with bells on while waggling a pigs bladder on a stick? Nope, he stood there clad in boxers and t-shirt with not a bell or bladder in sight. "You jest?" I grasped at the edge of the duvet in lieu of straws.
"No Daniel, I do not. He's had a domestic disaster. The water tank in his loft has burst, and flooded the entire upper storey." Jack began pulling clothes on. "He'll be staying here until his own place is habitable again. He paused in the pulling on of jeans to wag an admonitory finger in my direction. "Let me make one thing clear, you are not to harass him."
Me, harass him? My jaw dropped to my chest at this unfairness. I flung myself back under the covers, I wouldn't even dignify such accusations with a reply.
"It's no good sulking Danny, get up. You haven't given Tristan a chance. He's a very nice person once you get to know him."
"Huh," I momentarily re-emerged from under the duvet, "that's what they said about Stalin, and you wouldn't want him as a house guest." I dived back under.
"Up. Now."
Jack sounded exasperated, but I didn't care. My Sunday was in ruins. He swatted my backside through the bedcover.
"Tris will think you don't want him here if you're still in bed when he arrives."
"I don't!"
"One."
_f_u_c_k_-a-duck! Much as I loved Jack, his obsession with counting was beginning to depress me. It was like living with some primary level Einstein.
"Two."
Mindful that I never won this particular game, I hurled back the covers and leapt out of bed, stomping to the bathroom and throwing the door shut. Jack caught it before it could slam home.
"Let's put an end to the attitude right now," he grabbed my upper arm, whipped down my shorts and briskly applied his hand to my bottom. "You will be both civil and pleasant to our guest, or I'll demonstrate, in front of him, what good use I can make of his hairbrush."
"You wouldn't?" I tearfully rubbed my stinging posterior.
"Put me to the test Danny and you'll find out."
I watched sourly as Tristan (puke) kissed and embraced Jack. They were well matched for height, though Tristan was of a slightly lighter build. Jack didn't have to stoop to kiss him, like he did me. My bad mood deepened. Jack just didn't take my feelings into consideration where his friend was concerned. I still wasn't convinced that there was nothing between them, romantically speaking.
The glance he spared me was one of aristocrat to hired help.
"Good morning Daniel." He imperiously held out a bag, "take these into the kitchen, there's a dear boy."
I glanced at Jack to see whether he had noted that his stuck up mate was treating me like a servant.
"Go on Danny, take it."
Giving a mock tug of my forelock I snatched the carrier bag and marched towards the kitchen, thrusting my hips well forward as I passed Jack to avoid the swat he aimed at my rear.
Tristan proceeded to make himself right at home. By the time I got into the sitting room he was comfortably seated, long legs stretched out, chatting easily in that arrogant way of his. Jack smiled at me brightly, patting the seat next to him on the couch to indicate that he requested my presence there.
I sat on the window ledge.
He frowned slightly, but decided not to make an issue of it. "Tristan is going to make Sunday lunch Daniel, isn't that nice?"
He didn't seriously expect an answer from me did he, cos he flaming well wasn't getting one.
Tristan gave a regal wave of his hand, "just my way of showing my appreciation of your hospitality, and," he gave a coy little smile, "to be honest Jack my good fellow, I was planning on cooking for a guest today anyway. With your permission, I'll invite Sebastian over here. Don't want to let the darling man down."
"Of course, " Jack smiled warmly at the loathsome prat, adding. "You dark horse Tris, where did you meet this Sebastian?"
'Sebastian!' I felt a sneer working its way across my face. Jack noticed, and immediately requested that I take Tristan's case up to the guest room and, then go into the kitchen and make coffee.
It was a request not open to refusal.
I muttered and mumbled, thumping the case on every stair on the way up, and my feet on the way down. This day was just getting better and better. I addressed Mistoffelee's, who swished his tail sympathetically as I quietly ranted in the kitchen: "take the case upstairs Daniel...am I the _f_u_c_k_ing bell boy? Make coffee Daniel...be a sodding waiter now Daniel...what next? Polish my shoes and kiss my arse Daniel?
As if dickhead Tristan wasn't enough to contend with, I now had to tolerate some ghastly sidekick of his called Sebastian. I was beginning to feel as if I was trapped in an episode of Upstairs Downstairs.
I thumped the tray onto the coffee table, saying sarcastically, "will that be all now Mr Jack, or does Mr Tristan want me to blow on his coffee for him? Perhaps I ought to go lie on the doorstep now, in order to warm it up for the arrival of Mr Sebastian?"
"Have I upset you in some way dear boy?" Tristan managed to look and sound wounded.
"Of course you haven't Tris," Jack gave me a very bleak look. "Danny has a strange sense of humour at times. It often gets him into trouble."
While ratfink was busy taking over our kitchen, Jack took me to one side. "I'm warning you Daniel, no more nonsense. Tristan is looking forward to this lunch. I won't have it spoilt by you having one of your bratty tantrums."
"Why do I have to be here when his boyfriend comes, in fact why do I have to have lunch with them? I'd rather go to Ally and Den's."
"You're staying, good manners if nothing else demands it. You are just going to have to accept that Tris is part of my social circle, and therefore part of yours."
I pouted at this. "I don't have a social circle, in fact I don't even have a sodding social semi-circle seeing as you haven't allowed me out all week. I want to see Alison."
"Not today and I'm warning you for the last time about your language."
I treated Jack to a mini version of River Dance, arms rigid by my side, legs going like piston rods. He wasn't in the least bit impressed, he had never been a fan of Michael Flatley. I ended up in a corner of his study where he kept an eye on me while he worked.
On being introduced to Sebastian my skin prickled like a Witch Finder Generals - I was in the presence of evil.
He wasn't as tall as either Jack or Tristan, but he still topped me by several good inches, which set me against him straight away. He was thin to the point of emaciation, and while I, as a red head, was fair skinned, he was positively brilliant white. I mean, he looked seriously in need of a blood transfusion. With his over gelled hair slicked to his head, and his high cheek bones poking through his skin like cuttle fish through the bars of a budgie's cage, he looked like one of the undead. The cadaverous impression was added to by the cold clammy feel of his skin as he limply shook my hand. Jeez, I thought, Tristan must be desperate; he'd obviously done a Burke and Hare and dug Sebastian up from the local cemetery. I nearly asked where he'd parked his coffin.
"Ah yes, wayward little Daniel, the lamb abuser. Tristan has mentioned you."
Sebastian's voice was a shock and distracted me from the insulting nature of his words. Given his appearance, I expected something along the lines of Vincent Price or even Boris Karloff. What came out of his mouth was something reminiscent of the braying of a donkey and the snickering of a horse.
I caught Jack's eye, it read: 'laugh or comment in any way and you will not see the light of another dawn.' I gave him one of my most innocent expressions. He wasn't fooled for a second.
I stared in disbelief at my plate. It was all frigging vegetables! Not a bit of meat in sight.
"Sebastian is a vegan, aren't you darling?
"What, like Mr Spock?" I couldn't resist. "In that case shouldn't you have big pointy lugs?"
Sebastian looked down his ski slope of a nose at me. "That's a very unoriginal and feeble remark, if I may say so," he whinnied.
I resisted the urge to tell him to go forth and multiply, mindful of Jack warningly nudging his foot against mine under the table. "What's this?" I poked cautiously at something which resembled phlegm in a brittle brown casing.
"Spinach and watercress filo tart," said Tristan eying me disapprovingly.
Oh joy, I thought, turning my attentions to some green things in a pale slimy coating. "What are these?"
Tristan now glared at me frostily. "Must you hold a post-mortem on every item of food? That, dear child, is Bobby bean salad in white wine and Dijon sauce."
"Bobby!" I stared at him incredulously, "you're telling me these things have a Christian name? That's it, I'm not eating something I'm on first name terms with"
Jack's nudge turned to a light kick. "It's another name for runner beans Daniel, try them, they're delicious."
I nibbled reluctantly at one of the long green devils, "ugh, it's tough and lumpy."
"I see what you mean Trissy," trumpeted the semi-deceased one. "Our young friend has decidedly plebeian tastes."
Jack intervened before I could make an angry retort. "Stop being awkward Daniel," he said quietly, "just eat them."
He steered the conversation away from the food. They began talking over me. Jack trotted out the old boys network and the three of them reminisced about their experiences as public schoolboys, effectively leaving me, as a Comprehensive school graduate, out in the cold.
I hate being ignored.
I made a show of prodding and poking at one of the offending vegetables, slowly dissecting it by peeling out its stringy bit, splitting it down the middle and scooping out the insides. Then I hacked it to bits with my knife.
Jack finally took notice and spoke through clenched teeth, "you've made your point Daniel. Try some of the other vegetables."
"Sprouts!!!!"
"And what's wrong with sprouts, you tiresome youth?" Tristan sounded rattled. "They're highly nutritious."
"I hate sprouts," I glared at him savagely. "They're disgusting, not even nice to look at, never mind eat. They smell and taste like dog FART!"
"If you ask me," Sebastian gave me a contemptuous look, "you're deliberately trying to sabotage this lovely meal with your ghastly rudeness."
"Well no one IS asking you, so shut it Skeletor!"
"Ooh I say!"
"Say what?" I bawled, throwing control of my temper to the wind and whacking the fork down hard on an under done sprout. It acted much like the wink in a game of tiddlywinks, flipping the hard spherical object off the plate and sending it bouncing across the table like a Barnes Wallis bomb. (brief musical interlude: DUM-DUM-DUM-DUM-DAH-DAH-DAH-everybody hum along. Ah, that patriotic feeling.)
It struck Sebastian full in the fizzog, ricocheting off the end of his nose before ending its journey hugging Tristan's crotch, clinging there like a third green testicle.
Sebastian and Co (okay it's a dreadful pun, but work with me here) all turned appalled expressions in my direction.
"I've never been so insulted." Sebastian rose to his feet.
"Oh come on," I shouted, well aware that I was behaving badly, but unable to stop myself, "with a face like that you must have been!"
"Excuse us gentlemen!" Jack flew into action, grabbing my hand and whisking me out of the dining room. I knew I'd gone too far. I'd broken the golden rule of being polite to visitors and guests, and I'd ruined Tristan's lunch. I tried desperately to wriggle out of Jack's iron grip, but he was having none of it. Scooping me under his arm he air lifted me upstairs to our bedroom. The door closed behind us with an ominous note.
"I'll say sorry...Jack please...I will...I will... I'll say sorry...only..." The breath left my body as, after baring my bottom at the speed of light, he sat down and turned me forcibly over his left knee; hooking his right leg around my lower limbs to anchor me in position. My right wrist was held securely against my lower back. I couldn't so much as squirm. Boy, this was serious, I was in for it.
Horribly aware of the eager audience downstairs, I promised myself I wouldn't yell or cry out, but the best laid plans of mice and brats...
My resolve soon crumbled as Jack gave me the mother, father, aunt, uncle and distant cousin of all spankings. He brought that hateful hairbrush down full force, paddling away until my poor bottom burned with white hot intensity. I didn't care who heard me. In fact my howls were powerful enough to register on the Richter scale and send herds of wildebeest fleeing across the African plain in panic.
When it was over Jack didn't even give me chance to clamp and jump. As soon as I was vertical, he pushed me into a corner of the bedroom with instructions to stand and ponder my disgraceful exhibition in the dining room. He was going to go downstairs to try and redeem the situation.
To be honest, the main thing I pondered was the heat and pain generating from my bottom. I spent the rest of the time plotting Tristan's death, along with that of his vegetarian boyfriend. By the time Jack re-entered the bedroom, I had worked out details of a horrific end for both of them involving the ingenious use of a head of celery and two artichokes.
To my utter dismay, he made me go down and apologise to both of them, still red eyed from my outpouring of tears. I thought I'd die of embarrassment as they smirked at me. Pair of bastards.
"Yes, dear boy," smiled Tristan gleefully, "we could hear your sorrow all the way down here."
His grisly boyfriend gave a horsy snigger which almost set me off again.
Jack put me to bed for the rest of the day. "I'm deeply disappointed in you Daniel," was his parting shot. I didn't like that.
I lay on my stomach under the bedclothes and consoled myself that at least I didn't have to sit and listen to Prat man and Dobbin all afternoon. I reached under my pillow and withdrew Tristan's mobile phone, which I'd craftily lifted from the hall table on the way up. Punching in Ally's number, I settled myself for a nice long chat and some sisterly comfort.
Disclaimer: No actual vegetables were harmed during the writing of this episode. A stunt sprout was employed for the purposes of the dinner table scene. Bobby did all his own stunts. For those affected by the issues raised here there is help available, contact: Legumes support line@trellis. com.