Not just another Summer - 54. Moving Saturday & sexy knickers

“I told Jacob that he can stay here at least for as long as his traineeship.”

I nodded to Vince. “Fair enough. Or longer, even.”

“You OK with that?”

“He’s hardly a noisome lodger, is he?”

Vince chuckled. “I thought we could let him have another room.”

“Well, being as we’re getting shut of this lot.”

We were standing in the drive, watching the men manhandling the furniture from the attic out to their van. Ultimately, the valuers had made such a song and dance about it that we’d gone with the mate of Hortensia’s husband.

Hortensia and her husband were up in the attic, supervising, and we were down here on the drive. Anything that caught our eye was tagged. So far, there had been nothing. Well, not furniture. I had some boxes of my old schoolwork and that, whilst Vince had a sack full of photograph albums. Who said that the Philpotts did not do photos! We suspected that the albums had been Mum’s, it looked as if she was the photographer. Lots of Vince looking cute as a kid. I wasn’t going to let him live that one down.

There were also boxes of books, but Vince had insisted we leave these until later, otherwise I would get distracted. Me! As if!

With Hortensia upstairs keeping her eye on things we felt more confident about knowing which was the good stuff. But, by the end of a day that was long and tedious, for us, and exhausting for the removal guys, it became apparent that though a lot of the furniture was what Hortensia called ‘nice’, there was nothing good enough to warrant getting worked up about. And certainly no Mona Lisa hidden in a cupboard.

We broke for lunch and Vince insisted everyone come into the house so there was a chaotically social hour with the movers, Hortensia and her husband, Vince and me. The food was a mix of what we fasted up and what Hortensia had brought.

Hortensia was horrified that so much good furniture was going to waste but admitted that there was no room in the house to keep yet more furniture. The two removal men were perhaps a bit in awe of the house at first, but they relaxed. One was a keen gardener so inevitably that became a subject of conversation.

Finally, everything was gone. Hortensia announced that she would fix up the rooms in the week. Fix up for what? We weren’t sure.

Vince smiled. “Do you reckon she and her husband are planning to move in?”

I shook my head. “She’d never manage without a kitchen, I can’t see her making do.”

“No. I imagine not. The little picnic she packed was quite a spread.”

“Yeah.”

“Do we offer Jacob another room?”

“If he wants it. There’s not much else we could do.”

We hadn’t actually done much but I was feeling weary. We were sat in the hall with a cup of tea.

“I was thinking earlier that life had got a bit routine. Then I realised that I was getting used to things.”

“You mean here?”

“Yes. Suddenly, I have a home, a family and a boyfriend.”

“All three?”

“After a fashion. Not ordinary.”

“The extraordinary Philpotts.”

“Sounds like a bloody film.”

“What was it? The Magnificent Ambersons.”

“What was that?”

Vince shrugged. “Not sure. Orson Welles, I think.”

“Sorry, entirely missed that.”

“Look, whilst it’s just the two of us, I wanted to ask. Would you be comfortable if Peter moved in?”

“Full time?”

“Yes. We’ve been talking about it.”

“That’s terrific. And yes. All fine by me. More folk for the commune.”

Vince groaned. “Don’t…”

“What about Freddie?”

“We had a vague discussion. You know, theoretical. But I need to present him with something concrete.”

“He’ll be OK with it, surely?”

“Bloody hope so. Peter’s lease is coming up for renewal and the rent’s going up.”

“And we’ve got this barn of a place.”

“Precisely.”

I grinned. “His and his bedrooms.”

“And dens. We’ve realised we need both physical and mental space.”

“There you are then; this place is ideal. There’s something I did want to ask you. Peter’s underwear.”

Vince wiggled his eyebrows. “Fancy trying some?”

“No. I was wondering whether Peter only has black boxer briefs.”

“Same colour, same style. They’re comfortable, so he buys in bulk.”

“Thanks, just curious. I’d been thinking about underwear.”

“You! Breaking the habit of a lifetime?”

“No. For Matt. He currently wears boring grey briefs.”

“His Mum buys them?”

“Probably. I wanted to get something a bit sexy.”

“As a surprise?”

“Yes. I thought that being as it was me that was going to get to take them off, I could choose them.”

“But…”

“Then I thought about it. He moaned the other day about people always making decisions for him.”

“Not asking what he wants.” Vince smiled. “You know, I read somewhere once that blokes rarely buy their own underwear, first it’s their Mum, then their girlfriend and then their wife.”

“And you?”

“Well, I buy my own now!”

“I think I’m going to have to ask Matt what he fancies, rather than presuming.”

“Good idea. If they’re expensive. Ask him this evening.”

“May be.”

When Freddie finally appeared, he was keen to find out what was in all the boxes. Vince sighed but agreed to unpack and see. There were photo albums going back to before Mum and Dad’s wedding; not lots but enough. As Vince commented, in them Dad looked far more approachable than he had done in later life.

There were my old certificates and a few school exercise books, along with books that I had collected as a teenager. A rather mixed bag, these, but Plath, Ted Hughes and co featured alongside my conventional teenage interests including Carson McCullers. I’d forgotten her. I was in danger of disappearing down memory lane, so we simply put everything - books, school detritus and photo albums - into the study. All neatly organised by Freddie, who clearly had a strong streak of his father in him.

The remaining books were a mixed batch, though from the way Vince was exclaiming it seemed as if some were his old ones. Still, we eventually managed to get everything unpacked and sorted. And suddenly the study felt a lot more like our room rather than Dad’s domain.

We were just thinking about going upstairs to explore the newfound space when we heard Jacob’s bike. Oddly, instead of going upstairs he appeared in the garden with Maxi.

“Come in, we were just unwinding after our labours.”

“Hi, get rid of all the furniture?”

“Every last stick, now we’ve got even more space.”

“And no idea what to use it for.”

Jacob and Maxi looked at each other. “About that. Could Maxi move in?”

“With you?”

“No honey, I live alone. But with all the space, we wondered if he could have a couple of rooms.”

Vince turned to Maxi. “There is the space. Are you moving out of your present place?”

Maxi wrinkled his nose. “Ideally. I was OK sharing as a start, but then I saw how Jacob was getting on in his own space.”

“What about noise?”

“Oh, that should be no problem I have decent noise cancelling headphones. I do all that sort of work using them.” Then he grinned. “Mind, if you fancy a disco then I’m sure we could manage one.”

Vince shook his head, but I remembered Freddie talking about dancing with Arvid and decided we needed to chat about that. At some point.

Jacob looked from Vince to me and back. “Just so’s you’re clear, boss. We don’t do parties.”

“Yeah. Jacob’s too busy working and I have enough of those in my business.”

“It’s the peace and quiet.”

Maxi smiled. “And the garden.”

“You like gardening?”

“Well, my Mum’s the gardener, but I do like them.

It seemed settled, our commune was growing.

---

Matt was bringing dinner. He had insisted. Just the two of us. We would be sociable at breakfast in the morning. Matt appeared with an old biscuit tin strapped to the back of his moped. The paniers had no end of bits and pieces to eat in them, but the tin was carried in with great ceremony. It was quiche, from Treasures and he had made roast potatoes and other roast vegetables to go with it. All by himself, his mother had just supervised. Now, I would love to have been a fly on the wall there.

We had a cuddle, and more! Then relaxed with a drink and I fetched my laptop.

“I was going to buy you a surprise. But chatting to Vince, I thought that it might be better if I actually showed you, first.”

“Rather than you choosing?”

“I thought we could choose together.”

“Cool. What is it?”

“Well, I thought that if undressing you is going to be a regular habit”, I wiggled my eyebrows at him and he laughed, “then perhaps having something sexier under your jeans might be in order.”

“You mean…”

“Sexy knickers!” I grinned.

“Wow. You sure?”

“No. That’s why I wanted to show you, see what you think. I’ve found this website.”

“Oh aye!”

“It’s a reputable one.”

“Won’t it cost a bomb to get stuff shipped?”

“Shouldn’t do, the company’s British, so we’re OK there. It does swimming gear and underwear for men. Though some of it is a bit eyewatering. Not the sort of thing that I would dare to wear in public.”

I brought up the website and there was a young man wearing little more than a bit of fabric around his dick.

“Is this stuff even legal?”

“You have to register and that and be over 18 to see these pictures.”

“I know but…” Matt leaned forward and peered at the image. “He has to be shaving his bits don’t you think?”

I laughed. “A lot of their products are like that, but they do ordinary underwear too.”

I clicked to the page with men’s briefs. These varied from Calvin Klein clones right through to something closer to a jock strap.

“The fun ones have bits cut out, which I think is kind of cute.”

“Wouldn’t your dick pop out of that one?”

“Perhaps that’s the idea.”

“And that’s got no back.”

“It’s a sort of jock for those who want something a bit fancier.”

“They’re not cheap.”

“And not for every day.” I wiggled my eyebrows.

He went back to the site, so whilst he paid attention to each pair of briefs, I went and fetched some of the cold roast potatoes as a sort of appetiser.

“I reckon M&S do some like those”, he pointed to the Calvin Klein clones, “so I could get some as me regulars.”

“Instead of the grey.”

“Mum got me those when I went to big school and well…”

“Time you changed?”

“Yeah. I like those and those.” He pointed to a pair with cutouts and another where the sides were like mesh, but both had secure pouches for his bits.

“Fair enough.”

Then he went bright red. “And I’d like to try those.” He indicated a pair that were more jockstrap-lite, just a small pouch, thin straps and no back to speak of.

“You OK with going around with your bum out like that?”

He grinned. “Reckon I want to find out. ‘Sides, you’re the only person that’ll see me.”

“I think I’d rather like that.”

We got rather carried away after that. I’d order the knickers later.