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- 02/07/2025
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Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
The story is told largely through Gray Philpott’s first-person narrative, with occasional passages of dialogue in order to give Vince Philpott something of his own voice.
Not just another Summer - 3. Uncles & Nephews
“Uncle Gray, I…” My nephew Freddie came to an abrupt halt in the doorway to my sitting room.
The annexe where I was living was a single storey addition at right-angles to the main house. A separate flat, compact, but perfect for me, even though the décor and furniture had barely changed since Dad had had the place refurbished after grandfather died. It was more reminiscent of an hotel than a family home.
Whilst the annexe had its own front door, which was good for independent living, there was a second door that led from the lobby to the main hall of the big house. Freddie had come rushing through this without bothering to knock. He had thus found me sprawled on the sofa, working, bollock naked. I like being naked and when I’ve been able to live on my own, then I’ve spent as much time as possible like that. My friend Terence, who I’ve known since Uni, says that my Mother must have had a fling with a Scandiwegian.
Vince, proper as always, knocked before coming in, but Freddie was an impulsive teenager. His school holidays had started and, as far as I could tell, he wasn’t expected to get a holiday job and was around rather a lot. So, mid-afternoon he had simply cannoned into my sitting room but come to an abrupt halt in the doorway. He went bright red and stammered an apology, all the while his eyes taking everything in.
“It’s not a problem, after all, I should probably have warned you both. I often spend time like this. For me its preferable to wearing clothes. So, you’re not interrupting anything.” I gave him what I hoped was a light-hearted grin.
“Sorry, Uncle Gray. I’d better…”
“Look, if I’d wanted privacy I should have locked the door. Let me get some shorts.”
I stood up, thus giving him a real eyeful, and as I walked over to the bedroom, I stopped.
“Unless, of course, you’d like to join me and hang out like this?” It just popped into my head, and I had no idea whether he would. Teenage boys were usually wary and shy when it came to people seeing their junk, weren’t they? Particularly if the people were their uncle.
Freddie took my comment as an excuse to give me another good stare, then he went pink and stammered, “You mean you and me…”
I gave an exaggerated groan, “Get your mind out of the gutter. You’re a good ten years too young for me, and besides, I might be your weird arty uncle, but I think that I rather draw the line at incest.”
“Sorry, Uncle Gray.”
“I simply meant hang out. Let the air get to your junk.”
“O.K.”, drawing the syllables out. “But… Well, Dad.”
“As far as I know, your Dad is spending the afternoon helping at the centre.”
“Oh yes.”
“Look, you’re 15. I don’t see any harm in you being naked with your uncle, besides your Dad might join us.”
Freddie’s eyes widened at the scary and unlikely though of Vince joining us naked. But my broad smile indicated that I too though it unlikely.
He nodded, “Umm. Yes. Thanks. I will.”
Well, that was a surprise. I went to lock the doors, no harm in being a bit careful, was there? When I got back, Freddie’s t-shirt and jeans were neatly folded with his socks on top, and he was pushing his white underpants down. Freddie’s dark hair came from his Dad, but his pale skin and lack of body hair seemed to suggest Mum’s side of the family.
I am relatively hairless, something I accentuate by shaving off the rest, including around my junk; another factor in why Freddie might have stared. He was a well put together lad, still boyish but I reckoned he’d grow into a striking young man. I busied myself with getting him a drink and a biscuit. He sat down, drawing his knees up so that his junk wasn’t too visible.
“So, what did you want to chat about? Or did you just pop in to say hi?”
“Sorry. I didn’t want to interrupt; Dad says that you have work to do.”
“It’s all right. I had reached my limit and was about to take a break, so it’s nice to have an excuse.”
“Dad says that you’re staying.”
“For a few months at least. We need to see if your Dad and I can make this crazy arrangement work. I was eight, the last time we regularly lived in this house together.”
“Before Dad went to Uni? No way! Why did Grandad…”
“Make his will like that?” I shrugged, “Pure devilment, or to force us to get to know each other better.”
Freddie grinned, “I know what Dad thinks.”
“Precisely.”
“Are you going to get a job here? Dad said you weren’t at the Uni anymore.”
“I don’t know. I’m going to try and earn a living without, by doing more writing.”
“Like Norito’s Dad.”
“She’s a school friend?”
“Yeah. Her Dad’s a writer. Not like you though, he does textbooks and that, but he’s always worried whether he has enough work. So Norito says.”
“I know the feeling. But whilst I’m here, I don’t have to pay rent. Which helps a lot.”
“And it’s nice having someone else around.”
“What about your mates?”
“Arvid’s off visiting his Gran in Sweden, his Dad’s Swedish. The other guys are a bit lame, but I sometimes see them in town.”
“Fair enough. Look, I’m going to have to get back to work but I’m always up for a break. Just drop in. Keeps me sane.”
“You mean naked again?”
“Only if you’re comfortable.”
He grinned, “I think that I could get used to it.”
He bent down to dress. But whilst his head was down, he dared to raise the billion-dollar question.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“It’s kind of personal. Why do you shave down there?”
“Because I’m not very hairy anyway, and besides I think a guy’s junk looks better like that. But not everyone agrees with me.”
“OK. And is it difficult?”
I shrugged, “Not really. It’s just shaving. Do you use a wet-shave razor?”
“Yeah. It’s what Dad uses.”
“So, it is just the same. You are best using a trimmer or something to get the worst off, first time. Just, make sure you do it properly and use good aftershave balm, to prevent shaving rash. That’s not a good look. You understand?”
“Thanks. Dad bought me some good stuff for my birthday.”
“So, you planning to shave?”
And embarrassed nod, “Well, thinking about it.”
“For someone special?”
“Nah.”
He tried to be studiously cool but from the way he flushed, I’m pretty sure that there was someone special. Intriguing. Though I could hardly say anything to Vince, or at least I couldn’t come up with a way of bringing it up that wouldn’t mire us in a disputatious argument.
We had dinner en famille. Vince had bought something from M&S on his way home and it seemed churlish to say no. There was a big television in the main hall, and we watched a Netflix film as we ate our dinners off trays. There was wine, and Vince allowed Freddie a small glass, which surprised me. My brother was different from his image, or perhaps the image I had was the one that Dad had projected.
When Freddie retired to his room, Vince and I watched a documentary and had a glass of whisky.
“You spend a lot of time at the Horniman Centre?”
“I try to. The council cut their grant, and other funding is difficult at the moment.”
“I can imagine.”
“It’s the principle of the thing too, providing support if I can. Some of the lads and lasses make a real effort to turn things around. They deserve help, not hindrance. I know we didn’t see eye to eye with Dad…”
“But in many ways, we had it lucky. Don’t mistake me, Vince. At times I hated the bugger, but I’m realistic, without the family money I’d have never been able to concentrate on my writing.”
Vince snorted, “And I’d have ended up doing endless conveyancing and wills to bloody survive.”
“Whereas instead, you’re a partner.” I grinned at him, “Let’s face it, he might have been shitty in many ways, but we’re still privileged.”
Vince wrinkled his nose, “Too bloody right. So, I do half a day a week pro bono legal work, helping clients with problems. That’s my main contribution.”
“Must be a help.”
“Drop in the ocean, really. There’s so much more we could do if funding wasn’t an issue.” He huffed, “Sorry, I’ll get off my high horse. We do try. I also volunteer there. That’s a more personal thing, just general helping out, providing support.”
“Like today?”
“Yes. One of the guys there, Peter, I’ve known for a long time. Originally, he was a client there, but he’s turned life around, been to college and he now works there.”
“That’s terrific.”
“It’s the sort of thing that the centre’s good at.”
“If it has the money.”
“Dead right. Anyway, Peter’s become a sort of friend, so I go along to help when I can.”
“Well, if there are ever events like today’s open day, then I’m happy to help.”
“You!” It came out rather sharply, as if Vince hadn’t expected my help.
“Yes, me. Whatever Dad might have implied. As I’ve said, my views are closer to yours than his, though I’ll admit I’m not vocal and tend to keep my head down.” He snorted but stayed silent. “But I’m living here now, so being a useful member of the community, or trying to, at least.” I shrugged.
“Sorry. And thanks. I’m just so used to getting flak from Dad. The other partners just about accept the pro bono work as the firm doing their bit.”
“But can’t fathom you wanting to do more volunteering.”
That gave me plenty to think about. That Vince did have a rich social life, just not the one I’d imagined, because I had simply been projecting that image of him. I wondered whether there was, perhaps, a woman working at the centre too. It would be typical of Vince to mix the personal and work like that.
---
Freddie was as good as his word, and if he was around, he’d drop in mid-afternoon, and we’d have a tea break. It broke up my day, and he got comfortable with being naked. Still shy, but defiant as well.
He also started asking about queer things. Nothing personal, about sex or relationships, but about bars, whether I’d been to a nude beach (once, when a boyfriend paid for a weekend in Barcelona), clubs (yes, sometimes, I do like dancing), sex clubs (not really, if I’m going all the way it has to be in private), saunas (I’ve never trusted the hygiene).
I was beginning to think that my nephew was at least interested in queer issues; there would surely be a good reason why a 15-year-old was so keen to find out about all things queer. But I kept my thoughts to myself, I didn’t want to send Vince into overdrive. He lived with me being queer, but I had spent the last ten years largely away from Coningham. I don’t know how he would react if he realised his son was queer, too. And then there was my inkling that Freddie had a special someone he might shave for. That would open a whole new can of worms.
On Thursday, it was clear Freddie had taken the plunge. He turned up mid-afternoon wearing shorts and when he pushed them down, perhaps a bit more defiant than usual, he was smooth as a proverbial.
I smiled, “Looking good.”
“Thanks.”
“Any problems?”
“Not really. I was careful, it took longer than I thought.”
“You get quicker. Are you going to continue?”
An embarrassed nod, “Yeah. Think so.”
That was the extent of our discussion.
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Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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