The Feud Synopsis

Injured and drenched, Claire is forced to seek help at the house where her family had a long running dispute and feud. The son helps her – to the anger of both fathers.

The Feud

by obohobo

Warnings

Please take note!

The text in this story contains erotic material and is expressly written for adults only.

MF Rom

If you are underage or offended by such material, or if viewing this file is illegal in your locality, then leave, close or delete this file-story now.

This is a work of fiction, any resemblance to persons living, dead or otherwise is purely coincidental. The ideas and thoughts that follow are pure fantasies. In real life, at the very least they would be unpleasant and probably illegal. Fantasies are like that; daydreams where we can contemplate and imagine the sensations without suffering or inflicting the pain, despair or humiliation.

A Saturday in February

Sitting alone in the isolated farmhouse, seventeen, nearly eighteen years old Tim Beale tried to catch up with his course work on the last Saturday of half-term week, but the noise and wind from the storm outside rattling the old farmhouse windows, distracted him and he couldn’t concentrate on the work. Even on a February afternoon, it should have been light enough to see without a light, but the dark clouds made that impossible. Knock, knock. “Is that someone at the door or is it the windows?” Knock, knock, knock, knock. “Better check the door but who would be visiting in this weather? I didn’t hear a car.”

“Claire Phelps?” He viewed the drenched girl clutching the porch support pole to hold herself up. “What are you doing here?” and quickly remembering his manners, went on, “Come in, come in.” She hardly made it inside the door before clasping his arm for support.

“Sorry Tim, I know I shouldn’t be here but I need help and your house was the nearest.”

“It’s okay Claire, dad’s not here and I’m not overly concerned about the old taboo and feud. Come and sit by the fire, you must be frozen to death after being out in this weather. Let me take your coat off... Christ you’ve a bad cut on your leg.” Tim spotted the rip in her jeans and the blood soaked area around it.

The feud started three generations previously. In the depression era, Oswald Beale found it necessary to sell ten acres of land to Benjamin Phelps, his neighbour, but only received a fraction of what he thought the land was worth. Unfortunately no one else wished to buy it and, desperate for the cash, he resentfully sold it. Forever after, he deemed the Phelps’ thieves and frequently complained they stole his land. When things picked up a bit he wanted to buy the land back but Ben Phelps, Claire’s grandfather, asked the current market value, fifty times higher than his buying price. The enraged Oswald even took his case to court but the judge decreed the sale lawful and the present selling price not unreasonable. Ben kept the land and Oswald continued to deem he’d stolen it from him. This further alienated the two families and a feud developed whereby no member of either family would set foot on the other’s land without incurring dire consequences, a feud that lasted until the present time, with the disputed land now owned by Robert Phelps, Claire’s father, as part of his farm. More recently, the local council earmarked the land for residential development in their five-year plan and with developers interested, its value rose astronomically. It added a spark to reignite and further aggravate the feud

“Don’t take this the wrong way Claire, but you’ve a nasty cut on your leg that’s bleeding badly and needs cleaning and bandaging and probably stitching and before I can do that, I need to take your jeans off. They’re too tight just to roll up the leg and you need to get out of those wet things too before you get chilled.”

“I know the cut’s bad but my ankle hurts too and I can hardly stand on it and I should have it looked at in the hospital.”

Nodding his agreement, Tim went to the phone. “Damn!” he swore, “When we get a storm it always knocks the phone line out for a while but it usually comes back when an overhead connection dries out. Dad and mum are in town shopping so I don’t have the van and my mobile’s bust, what about yours?

“Left it at home otherwise I’d have used it when I first fell.”

“We’ll have to do what we can here to make you more comfortable and you’ll see how good I am at first aid. Let me take your wet things off first and hang them on the rail by the stove.”

With blood oozing freely from the cut and her swelling foot, extremely painful, Claire felt she had no option but to trust Tim and reluctantly allowed him to remove her saturated clothes. She’d intended to keep her bra and knickers on but before she realised, Tim unclipped the bra and he pulled her knickers down with her jeans. Trying to be clinical and not stare at the beautiful, if bedraggled, girl, he examined the cut and the swollen ankle. “You definitely need hospital treatment but if you sit still for a moment I’ll get some towels so you can dry yourself and a wide bandage to hold the cut together and staunch the blood flow.” A minute or so later he returned and noted Claire looked very pale and only whispered her thanks for the towels. “Aaaagh!” she cried out when he lifted her foot to apply the bandage and saw how her foot had swollen.

“Sorry,” Tim apologised and when he looked up, he couldn’t help but notice her light brown pubic curls matched her hair and wondered what she’d be like in bed. His prick started to harden. However, he desperately thrust those thoughts aside and concentrated on wrapping the bandage around the wound and seeing her efforts to dry herself were quite feeble, gently took a towel and carefully dried her body without trying to stimulate her or himself. However, he noticed the hardening of her nipples and wondered at her thoughts.

“What am I doing letting a Beale see me naked and letting him help me? Dad will have a fit when he finds out. Still it feels nice and he’s being a gentleman although I know he’s looked at my sex and he’s having a job to hide his erection. Is he going to keep me here naked until his parents come home or my clothes are dry? They’ll take a long while because they are thick, winter wear and are completely soaked and they obviously don’t have a dryer in this house. He’s quite good looking and he’s quiet in the classes we have together but up to now I’ve never dared to get close to him because of father’s wrath if he found out. He looks fit and strong, but most farm boys are and he held me easily enough when he helped me in.”

His mind appraised her body. “Nice tits, not large but firm. Never really noticed her before; she’s always sort of in the background but I don’t put myself forward either and I never get to go out much, not with farm work and school stuff.” Tim again tried to push his thoughts away. “I can’t harm her even if she is a Phelps and I doubt she’ll want to see me afterwards anyway even if our parents allow it, which I doubt.”

Her fears were unfounded. “I’ll borrow mother’s dressing gown. It’ll be a bit too big but it will keep you warm and cover up the bits I shouldn’t see,” Tim grinned, “And I’ll find a pair of her old slippers that might fit.” In fact she had to wear an odd pair, one of hers and one of Tim’s because of the swelling of her foot.

As the warmth from the stove penetrated to her bones, her spirits revived and for a while they sat chatting and drinking tea like old friends until Tim remarked, “Hey, we’re supposed to be enemies but I just don’t see it that way. Can we break with tradition and be friends?”

“After what you’ve done for me, I don’t see why not.” She stretched her arm and squeezed his hand.

“How come you were so close to this house?”

“Well I didn’t arrange it to see you!” Claire’s laugh took and sting from the remark, “I’ve been to Claverton and missed the bus back and rather than wait two hours, I decided to walk. The shortest way is the footpath through the woods and, although I knew it went across your land, it is a public footpath, so I took it. It had already started raining lightly but before I got to the woods it came down in torrents, my clothes were drenched and the path became a slippery mud bath. I slipped on that steep bit above the stream and twisted my ankle and caught my leg on the stump of a sapling. I hobbled a few yards and then saw your house and thought that even your family wouldn’t turn me away. Fortunately, you were the only one in. God my ankle throbs.”

“And it’s swollen like a football and the blood’s soaked through the bandage but I don’t think it’s wise to take it off and put another on.”

“That’s cheered me up!” Claire grinned when he apologised.

Nearly an hour later, Claire slumped and became light-headed and when Tim thought she might pass out, he sat close and put his arm around her to provide a modicum of comfort. Sensing the security, she rested her head on his chest and dozed. A movement woke her. Tim moved to look out of the window, “The storm’s going over now and the rain’s easing so mum and dad should be home soon. Expect the World War III to start then but I’ll be on your side and insist on taking you to hospital. His assumption proved correct.

“What the bloody hell is she doing here?” Dick Beale roared when he saw the girl sitting in the kitchen. “You know well enough not to bring any Phelps on to my land. And why is she in your mother’s dressing gown? Get her out of it.”

“She’s injured Dad, I had to wait for the van to take her to hospital, the phone’s out so I couldn’t call an ambulance. Her clothes are soaked and she can’t walk.”

“And I supposed you shagged the whore. That’s all a Phelps girl is fit for. Get that robe off her and if you haven’t shagged her, I will.”

Tim stood between Claire and his father. “You’ll not lay a finger on her Dad, she’s in enough pain now so leave her be.”

The argument raged for several minutes until, “CLANGGG!” Betty Beale slammed a heavy saucepan on the counter. The loud noise silenced the argument and brought the stand-off to an end. “Stop this row right away. If you so much as show her your prick, husband, you’ll sleep in the guest room for the rest of the year. Can’t you see the poor girl’s suffering and that’s not fake blood on her leg, is it? That she’s a Phelps shouldn’t make any difference when a person is in serious trouble. Give Tim the van keys and let him take her for treatment, as I’m certainly not going to let you go with her. Keep the dressing gown for as long as you need it Claire. You can tell us the story when you get back, Tim, I’m sure she must have been in a real mess to have called on us for help. Are any of her clothes dry enough to wear?”

“Only her knickers.”

“Put them on her then, that will at least save her some embarrassment when the doctors examine her. And you can look the other way,” she ordered her husband. Claire hardly had the strength to put them on herself and Tim carried her to the van and stayed with her during triage and X-ray and held her hand while the nurse stitched and dressed her wound. By then the hospital had informed her parents, Robert and Kathleen, and they arrived but knew better than make a scene. Their looks made it clear they did not like their daughter being with a Beale boy and certainly not holding his hand.

“Thank you for what you did for my daughter, Beale, but we can take over now,” Robert said barely hiding the venom in his voice.

Claire held Tim’s hand tighter and in a weak voice, replied, “Daddy, I want him to stay. Had he not been there and helped me, you’d have been visiting the mortuary. Let him stay for a while.” The arrival of the doctor with the X-rays halted any further conversation.

“We have a problem with you, Claire. You have broken a couple of bones in your ankle and walking on it pushed them well out of place. Normally we’d set them and put your foot in plaster but with the cut on your leg needing changes of dressings, we cannot do that so we’ll have to tape a case in place and keep you in a day or two and afterwards, you won’t be able to walk on it for a while. I’ve arranged for you to go to theatre shortly so we can do the small operation to put the bones back in place.” Turning to those at her bedside, “I suggest you all go home now. By the time she comes out of theatre and regains consciousness, it will be very late. Phone in the morning to see how she is.”

“Keep away from my daughter, Beale boy,” Robert hissed as they left.

“Don’t be like that, Darling,” his wife intervened, “You heard what Claire said, she might not be alive if Tim hadn’t helped her and I want to find out what happened. We didn’t get the story before they whisked Claire to theatre. Would you mind coming to the cafeteria for a few moments Tim please? Or does your hatred of us forbid it?”

“No, Mrs. Phelps, the hate is more my father’s thing. Yes, I’ll willingly tell you what happened and I know you also want to know where her clothes are because I guess you may think that we’d had sex. We didn’t. Claire was in no state for anything like that and only a pervert would have taken advantage of her.”

“We should be getting home,” Robert grumbled. Kathleen held fast and insisted on hearing Tim’s story and even paid for his drink and sandwich. She listened attentively as Tim related the tale but Robert sat sideways to the table and looked into space and at the finish only reiterated his earlier comment, “Thank you for what you did but keep away from her now, Boy.”

Bravely Tim countered, “We’re both near adults, Sir, and can make up our own minds. If Claire doesn’t wish to see me, then I won’t press her but that is up to her.”

“You keep away from her, I won’t have a Beale fraternising with my family, they’ve caused enough trouble in the past.”

Kathleen tried to diffuse the charged atmosphere without much success but at least she thanked Tim sincerely for the help he’d given to Claire. Robert countered that by stating Tim had only helped to try and get into her knickers. With nothing resolved they made their way home.

As Tim drove home, he angrily cursed both fathers for their intransigence, believing that their wives were as sick of the confrontation as he. Previously he’d had little contact with Claire except for seeing her in his maths and English classes. Like him, she largely kept to herself and rarely mixed with others. “She’s quite good looking, as I found out today,” he smiled, “But usually she wears bulky sweaters that hide her body. I think she’s only a few months younger than me but we’ll both be eighteen before the end of the next term and she’ll be an adult then so she can tell her father to fuck off if she wants. Not that she will, not while he holds the purse strings. I wonder if she really likes me? It looked as though she did when we talked this afternoon and the way she held my hand at the hospital but was it because I’d helped her and didn’t make a pass when I had her naked? Damn her father, damn my father, if she wants to continue seeing me, then I’ll do all I can to see her. I’m sure she will try and get back to classes as soon as she can to take the pre-Easter exams. Maybe we can sort something out then. For sure I won’t be invited to her home but we still have her clothes. Perhaps I should risk taking them back?”

Kathleen Beale turned her back on her husband in bed that night and quietly cried, partly because the fear that her daughter might be scarred from the cut and surgery and might not walk properly afterwards, although the doctor assured her that she would, but mainly because of the confrontation. Robert forcefully denounced the boy on the way home and continued until bedtime but she hadn’t agreed and for once, took a stand against him. She thought he seemed a nice lad and Claire had yet to bring a boy home or had been out with one. Again she blamed her husband for setting rigid rules as to whom Claire could or could not see but he obdurately argued against the Beales and all they stood for.

Claire woke in the early hours of the following morning and a nurse quickly checked her and, after making sure she wasn’t in any serious pain, left her to doze again. For a while, Claire lay awake and went over the events of the day and particularly those involving Tim. “I wonder why I’ve never looked at him before? Apart from knowing he’s a Beale and therefore one of the hated ones, according to my father, and that I am forbidden to speak with him. He treated me really well this afternoon considering I was virtually in his power and he could have played with my body or fucked me when I was unable to resist. Now, of course, daddy will forbid me to see him. Why can’t he see that we’ve nothing to do with the squabble that started long before he was born? Why can’t I be like other girls and chose the boy I want to be with without restrictions? Hell, I will see him at school and they can’t stop that, not with my final exams coming up soon. Hope this foot doesn’t prevent me taking the exams. It won’t stop me seeing Tim again despite what daddy says; I’ve conformed to his will for far too long. Even if I’m on crutches or in a wheelchair, I’ll get to see him, that is, if he wants to see me. I think he does from the way he spoke and the way he held my hand until my parents interrupted.” Gradually the drugs took over and she drifted into a light sleep.

Sunday

“Good morning Mrs. Phelps.” Betty Beale waited for her to emerge from the hospital after the Sunday morning visiting hour. “I have your daughter’s clothes in the car and I wondered if you would mind having a few words with me or is the taboo is too great for that.”

“What taboo? Thank you Betty, may I call you Betty, Mrs. Beale is a bit formal?” After a nodded agreement she went on, “I’m Kathy. Shall we sit in my car; the wind is still a bit chill.”

“That’s kind of you. You can guess that it’s Claire that I want to talk about. How is she?”

“They’ve put her foot bones back in place but she’ll be on crutches or in a wheelchair for a while. They’ll let her home after a few days. With the exams coming up, it couldn’t have happened at a worse time.”

“When Dick went to the pub last night, I had a long talk with Tim...” She went on to explain his feelings for Claire, “And he’s offered to help her with the revision if we can find a way that won’t set our husbands at each other’s throats again. They’re worse than kids.”

“Claire said much the same thing about Tim and if we don’t do something to help their relationship, sooner or later, they’ll do something drastic to force the issue and I may well lose my daughter. Of course, when they get to know each other better, they may part company but then it will be their own decision and not one others have forced on them.”

For half-an-hour they discussed how they could help their children without creating too much disharmony. “Robert will play golf this afternoon if it keeps fine, and it should do, if Tim can get to the hospital at 2 o’clock for the afternoon visiting time, he can come in with me. Just make sure he doesn’t mention it to Dick and I’ll make sure Claire doesn’t tell Robert. I’m sure she won’t.”

The plan worked and Tim, on his best behaviour, spent the two hours laughing and chatting to both Claire and Kathy. Kathy even gave them some time alone by going to the cafeteria for a while.

“How come you’re wearing a hospital gown when I expect your mum has brought your clothes?”

Claire leaned over so the front flopped open, giving Tim a clear view of her tits. “Thought you might like to see them again,” she laughed, “I can see you like the sight.” She looked directly at his crotch, “And Mum brought a pair of jeans that I cannot get over my foot. Will you risk giving me a kiss with those other patients watching?”

“I’ll always take a dare.”

All the secrecy went for naught. Robert and Kathleen visited again in the evening and when he saw the nurse, Robert asked how his daughter progressed. “Oh Sir, she’s a doing foine right now af’ta her boyfriend came a visitin’ the af’tanoon. She’s as ’appy as can be, as yer c’n see,” she replied in broad Irish dialect.

Struggling to control his temper in a public place, his face as black as thunder, he abruptly asked Kathleen for the truth of that statement. “I’ll deal with you when we get home,” he threatened when she acknowledged the truth. “I won’t have that boy anywhere near her, do you hear that Nurse? If he comes in again, have security throw him out.”

“From the look a’ them two ladies bawling their eyes oot, Sir, methinks tis you them security men orta’ throw out. Yor disturbin’ my patient an’ t’others on ward.”

“Put your coat on woman, we’re leaving,” Robert ordered.

“No Robert, you go before the nurse does call security. I need to comfort Claire and if you’re still in a violent mood when I get home, I’ll move in with mother. Take the car, I’ll get a taxi.”

For the remainder of the visiting time she tried to calm Claire and assure her that she’d be alright when she got home but Claire remained unconvinced. “Grab that big old frying pan when you get in, Mum, and slam it on the table like Tim’s mum did. That should show him you won’t take any nonsense.”

Kathleen didn’t need the frying pan; she arrived home to an empty house. Wandering from room to room, knowing he’d been back because his best hat sat on the hall table and the coat he’d worn to the hospital hung on the peg. Worse, to her mind, a half empty bottle of whiskey stood on the kitchen table but no glass, “He must have drunk straight from the bottle and that could mean real trouble, I wonder where he is?” She peered into his office and to her horror noticed the open gun cabinet with the shotgun and cartridge belt missing. “I bet he’d gone to the Beale’s place, I’d better warn them otherwise we could all be in trouble.” He action came a little too late. Fortunately Betty answered at the second ring. “Oh God Betty, Robert found out and I think he’s heading your way with his shotgun...”

“BOOM! CRASH!” a few second silence then, “BOOM! CRASH!” Over the phone, Kathleen heard the gunshots and the sound of breaking glass. “I’ll phone the police Betty you get under cover.”

At the sound of the gun, and falling glass, Tim instinctively threw himself to the floor but a shard of glass from the second shot breaking another pane, embedded itself in his thigh as he lay there. At the time he didn’t feel much pain and after the second blast he knew he’d have a few seconds during the time it would take Robert to reload, to get away from the window. Betty grabbed him and virtually forced him into a windowless storeroom and barricaded the door. “Keep quiet Tim, let those two fools play until the police take them away. Perhaps a night or two in the cells will sort out their differences. I doubt in the dark they’re going to hit each other. Oh God, you’re bleeding too.” In the dim storeroom light, she removed the glass and bound two tea towels around the wound.

Dick, hearing the gun shot and Robert’s yell as the window broke, quickly grabbed his twelve-bore and a box of shells and went to the attic windows where he could look down on two sides of the house and whenever he saw a movement, or thought he saw one, he fired. Robert, in his drunken anger, seemed content to fire randomly at windows and laughed and yelled as the glass shattered.

By the time the police arrived, the scene resembled an old time western film. They called for the men to put down their guns but neither man took any notice and Dick even sprayed a police car with pellets. Finally, Robert ran out of cartridges and threw down his weapon. The police through a loud hailer, ordered Dick to lay his down too, “You’ll be charged with attempted murder if an officer gets hurt, Dick Beale. Robert Phelps is already in custody.” Reluctantly, Dick threw his gun out of the window.

Huddled in the storeroom Betty and Tim heard the wail of the sirens, the continued gunfire and then the silence that followed for a while. Minutes later they heard a few footsteps followed by many more. “Mrs. Beale, Tim, Police, are you in here? You’re safe now.”

“Yes, we’re here,” Betty yelled, “Have you got them safe?”

“Yes, Ma’am. Is Tim there?”

No one slept that night. The police took Tim to the hospital to have the remainder of the glass particles removed and his leg stitched. They charged Robert and Dick with illegal use of weapons and kept them in custody pending further investigations. Kathleen and Betty were questioned at length and the whole story came out and reporters were soon on the scene.

After breakfast, wearing only a hospital gown and his pants, Tim hobbled from his ward to surprise Claire. “You’re not the only one with a bad leg,” he smiled and kissed her and showed his bandage. He’d hardly told her the story before a nurse shooed him out but he crept back again later.

Easter time

A month later at the Beale home, after showing Kathleen the repairs, Betty said, “I’m selling the farm, Kathy and getting a divorce. Dick will be inside for a long while. The court case won’t get a hearing for months and then I guess they’ll get a pretty long sentence. I won’t sell it to you either or that will start another feud. With my share I’ll get a smaller house and if there’s not enough for me to live on and put Tim through college, I’ll get a job. What about you? Have you decided to sell?”

“More or less. Robert probably will be in a while longer than Dick because he started it although he blames me, as well as you and Tim. The manager can run things for a while but I really don’t want the hassle of it – or the memories.”

In Claire’s room on her bed, naked Claire and Tim played with each other. Tim sucked her breasts while she fingered his prick. For the first time they felt fit enough to make love although Claire’s ankle had yet to heal fully and she still needed a crutch. “It’s time Tim, time to make me a woman. Make love to me, I can see and feel you are ready for it and so am I.”

Finis