Deaf to Love Synopsis

Totally deaf, Leonie didn’t understand her woodwork teacher’s instructions until he put her into the care of Ian, the class craftsman. Her father thwarted their newfound love.

Deaf to Love

by obohobo

Warnings

Please take note!

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

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.

Ian

“Shi-eet!” The crash of a hammer and the clatter of wood falling to the floor, followed the expletive. Looking up and seeing Leonie O’Connell looking upset, and hearing Mr. Singh shout even though he knew she wouldn’t hear, I went to her and touched her arm. Tears were in her eyes when I picked up the pieces and we looked at the way the wood had split.

“Sort her out if you can, Ian, I can’t seem to get through to her,” Mr. Singh called out.

I knew why he suggested me. His beard and the way he hardly opened his mouth to speak, didn’t allow Leonie to read his lips and with woodwork being my star subject, I could advise and help her. I knew she hadn’t wanted to take woodwork and had almost no previous experience of the subject, but it was the only class with a place free when she arrived after the term had started. Picking up the remains of her work and with the eyes of the class on me, I led her to my bench. Taking the notepad she always carried, I wrote, ‘Not your fault, the wood is crap, the method wrong. Come to my place after school and we can sort something out.’ A very bold move for me; being somewhat shy, I’d never had a girlfriend and normally I kept away from them. My woodwork projects and model yacht racing kept me occupied.

Leonie, mostly we call her Leo, arrived at the school a week after the September term started and they placed her in my form. Mr. Danvers, the form teacher, explained that she was totally deaf but could read our lips if we faced her and spoke clearly, but because she’d never actually heard the words, her pronunciation might be different to the rest of us. Of course many of the students took the piss out of her, knowing she couldn’t hear what they said, but I knew many times she read the words, even from a distance and her face registered her perturbation. You would think sixteen year olds would have more compassion, but no, egged on by their friends, many taunted her when no staff were around. I felt sorry for her but didn’t do anything about it and left her alone to retreat into her own silent, and seemingly friendless, world, hence my describing my note as ‘a very bold move’.

“I’ll have to ask mum,” she replied loudly enough for everyone to hear and cause me some embarrassment.

I took her to the ‘design corner’ of the woodwork room and tried to discuss the type of container she really wanted. Mr. Singh gave us the brief for our exam projects at the beginning of term nearly a month previously: ‘Design and make a container (box, chest, cupboard etc.) for a specific purpose using wood as the main material. Produce a folder of your design ideas and the methods used in the construction of the container.’ I’d decided on an elaborate miniature chest of drawers to hold mother’s jewellery. She laughed when I suggested it, “Your father’s a joiner and makes boxes all the time for other people and has not made anything for me since we courted. I have to wait until my son has a project before I get something else. Are you going to supply the jewels to go in it too, Ian?”

“Not unless I get more pocket money,” I grinned.

‘What would you LIKE to make – ignore any worry about how to make it’ I wrote on Leo’s pad and found a handful of design books for her to look through. Really it was something to keep her (and me) occupied for the half hour until the end of the lesson and keep Mr. Singh off our backs. I spent most of the time looking at her more closely than I’d done before and wondered how we would get on together if her mother allowed her to come to dad’s workshop. Physically we were well matched, both of us about 5’ 5” tall, dark haired and slim. I dressed scruffily; she in a plain, non-revealing way, that almost hid her burgeoning breasts. I liked what I saw but averted my eyes when she caught me looking. She smiled but said nothing. Several times later I caught her looking at me and, almost automatically, I smiled at her. So began our friendship. I wanted her friendship because I’d only dreamed of having a girlfriend and she needed a friend of her own age she could talk to as she hadn’t made any friends since moving here. I happened to be there and, despite the communication difficulties, we gelled.

We both lived on the outskirts of Bowthorpeness, a small market town, she about a quarter of a mile nearer to the school and although I walked passed her house each morning, I never saw her because her mother took her by car. I guessed she thought her daughter’s hearing problem made it unsafe for her to walk along and cross the busy road even though we had a panda crossing near the school.

Come on,” Leo urged and took my hand when I lagged behind, nervous at meeting her mother. “Mum’s okay, it’s Dad you’ll need to be careful of,” she went on. Several boys from my form called out obscenities when they ran passed but I ignored them and enjoyed the feel of her hand in mine. Before we reached the car, her mother got out and waved her arms, Leo responded with further arm waving. I knew they were signing but hadn’t a clue what they said. Leo introduced her mother as Rita and explained the situation.

I’m sure she guessed there was more to her daughter’s request to go to our workshop than wanting to do woodwork, a subject for which she hadn’t expressed much enthusiasm, but Rita only mentioned that side of her schoolwork to start with.

“I would like to see the facility for myself please Ian, and talk with your parents if they are at home, before agreeing to this.”

“Mother will be in, I don’t know about Dad, depends on whether he is working on a job or doing a delivery or getting supplies. Mother will know.”

I sat in the back and only broke the uneasy silence to give Rita directions. “Oh, it’s real old farmhouse,” Rita exclaimed as we pulled up in front of the house.

“Yes, parts of it date back to the 16^th century but there’s been a lot of additions since. Some time in the mid-1900’s an extended family lived here and enlarged the house so it’s bigger than we need. There’s no farm with it now, just the house and the big barn over there, is our workshop. The door is open so Dad’s working.”

Mother quickly overcame her surprise at my bringing a girl home, and bringing her mother too. I introduced her as Mary and she did her usual thing; she put the kettle on. I’d mentioned Leonie to her several times but not with any personal feelings, more because of her unusual problem and the way she and others treated it. Dad came in. “Thought there would be tea brewing when I saw the car,” he joked and I introduced him as Bert.

I related what happened earlier in the afternoon to them and went on, “Mr. Singh is really the problem. It’s not that he isn’t a good teacher, he is, but he doesn’t speak clearly and seems to dislike having girls in the class, probably because the other two girls do little work and are only there to flirt with the boys. He’s only given a token amount of help to Leonie and expected her to nail her box together when he’d given her some grotty mahogany that splits easily. He doesn’t expect her to take the exam so he’s only concerned to keep her occupied. I think she can do much better with proper instruction, good materials and was making something she really wanted.” Quite a speech for me.

“Okay, let her know the rules and there’ll be others for her especially as she cannot hear when machines are running and she must tie her hair up at the back so it doesn’t flop forward.”

“Did you understand that Leo?” I asked. She said she did and Rita questioned him further on the safety aspects of her daughter being in a workshop.

“There’s always some risk,” Dad replied, “But it sounds as if the risk is less here than in a class with sixteen others at school. I know Ian well enough to say, he’s unlikely to take risks. What would you like to make, Leonie?” Dad asked. She didn’t really know. We all adjourned to the workshop and I showed her the tools I’d inherited from granddad and the bench I’d made and used. Several times Dad forgot he had to speak directly to her but we corrected him each time so we got along fine. “The machine shop at the end of the barn is out-of-bounds to Ian unless I’m with him, and for the time being, it is certainly out of bounds to you young lady,” Dad told her forcibly.

“I can’t hear noise like you people seem to,” Leonie spoke up, “But I can feel vibrations and know when a motor is running, even the mixer in the kitchen, so that may not be a big problem, Mr. Clarke,” Leonie spoke in her odd way but we knew what she meant.

“We’ll see, how things go, you won’t need them for a while and Ian or I will prepare the wood for you. She still hadn’t any idea of what wanted to make so we went through into the little showroom and amazed her and her mother with the quality of the work father did. He unlocked the cases, and allowed them to handle the items.

Leo spent a lot of time looking and fingering a reproduction Victorian inlaid writing slope, one of a batch father made for sale at an antiques fair. “You like that?” I asked when I gained her attention.

She nodded. “The inside would have to be different to take the stuff I use.”

“She belongs to a retro letter writing group, Ian,” Rita informed me, “They write these beautifully crafted letters to each other, almost like calligraphy. One gets the original but the letter is scanned before it is sent and put on the web site, so all in the group see it. I think I ought to get back and cook dinner now. Thank you for showing us your beautiful work, if she wants to come here and I can get her father to agree, then I’ve no objection to her coming but I will monitor what she does.”

“Can I come back afterwards and start on the project, Mum?”

I saw Rita raise her eyebrows, but she replied, “If your father agrees.”

“You’d better bring the things you want inside the box and we’ll try and find a suitable arrangement,” I suggested as she left.

Leonie

I hated the woodwork class. Old Singhy never paid me any attention and when he did, I didn’t understand what he said and he refused to spend time making notes on my pad. I’d done a term of woodwork at my old school while I was in year seven and I quite liked it then, a ‘taster session’ they called it, but when in the following year I had to choose between it and needlework, I chose the latter.

The needlework and domestic science classes were full by the time I moved to Bowthorpeness, so I got lumbered with woodwork. The others had started on their designs for a container and Singhy gave me the wood to make a simple box. I spent two weeks sandpapering the wood and cutting it to size and when I asked one of the boys how to fix it together, he found some nails for me but as soon as I hammered the first one, the wood I’d spent so long getting smooth, split from one end to the other. Almost in tears, I uttered a cry and threw the hammer and the wood down on the bench. Next thing I knew, this boy, Ian Clarke, the boy who did the best in class and often brought his own tools in, touched my arm and took me to his bench.

I’d noticed him in class but he didn’t stand out, except that he didn’t take the piss out of me like many of the others. He didn’t worry too much whether or not his shirt and jacket were creased and never wore a tie, but I’m not a fashion addict either so that didn’t bother me. In fact I hardly noticed him. My English, maths and science were better than his so I hadn’t needed his help before and, as he rarely said much, this was the first time I’d paid him any regard. At most subjects he plodded along about the middle of was six and now he certainly didn’t need Mr. Singh for instruction. I think he did most of the work at home, which I know many of the ot the attainment ratings but at woodwork he was far ahead of everyone. I’d heard his joiner father had him working when he hers thought unfair because he had access to tools and equipment, the rest didn’t. At the time, I couldn’t have cared less.

When he wrote, ‘Not your fault, the wood is crap, the method wrong. Come to my place after school and we’ll sort something out,’ on my pad, my heart gave a little flutter and I looked at him in a different light. We sat in the design corner for a while, ostensibly looking for a project I could make, but I saw him checking me out and I did the same to him. All the time he seemed concerned that I’d been left to fend for myself and not given proper help or instruction and I wondered if he had feelings for me, like I’d begun to have for him. Understandably I suppose, he looked concerned and nervous when I said I had to ask Mum and would take him to meet her outside the school when she picked me up. He hung back when we walked across the schoolyard and on impulse, I took his hand and half dragged him along. I think at that moment he became my boyfriend, at least in my way of thinking.

Seeing mum get out of the car, I signed her to say I’d got a boy friend. I tried to make it two words but I doubt she saw it that way. Quickly I introduced Ian and explained the situation and asked her permission to go with Ian but she wanted to see the place first and meet his parents. We did and I liked Mary his mother, his dad was okay but appeared to be strict and went on about safety in the workshop. The equipment, even to my inexperienced eyes, looked far superior to the school stuff and when we looked at the work samples he’d done, as well as a few items Ian had made, I wanted to make something similar. Mum was over the moon and lavish with her praise at the items and the photos in an album. A reproduction writing-box caught my attention and I fell in love with it straightaway and when Ian noticed, said I could make one like it. “You’re joking,” I amswered, “I could never make one, not if I had several years and not a couple of terms and a bit.”

Ian and Bert both said I could if shown properly and in the end I half believed them. In any case, I reasoned that I might as well make a mess of that as the simple box. Mum explained about my membership of the Retro Letter Writing Group and what I did with them as a hobby. “Can I alter the inside to take the things I use?” I asked and that didn’t seem a problem. I would need to bring in the things I wanted inside and we (they) would design a box around it. Just as I began to get eager to start, mum decided we had to go and I’d need father’s permission to come back later. I knew that might be a problem.

Dad’s very over protective and hasn’t allowed me to go out with a boy and I could foresee him making a big fuss before agreeing, if he did agree. Mother came out firmly on my side and stressed it would help my exam results and that Ian seemed a nice if rather shy boy who would help me.

Dad insisted on driving me to the farmhouse and meeting Ian. Poor boy, daddy laid the law down as to his behaviour with me until his father intervened and told dad to leave him alone. “Ian knows how to behave, even if he hasn’t had a girl before and while he’s here, they won’t be alone for long at a time.” That confirmed my suspicion that Ian was a virgin.

Ian

I took an instant dislike to Ivan O’Connell. A big, burly civil engineer who drove heavy earth moving equipment for a living, he came into the design room and yelling at the top of his voice, told me in no uncertain terms all the things I wasn’t to do with his daughter, and how sorry I’d be if I did. I began to think I would be teaching Leo with my hands tied, a gag in my mouth and wearing a chastity belt. Dad came to my rescue and equally loudly, told Ivan that I was a good lad and I wouldn’t be alone with Leonie for long at a time. At one point, I thought there could have been a fight. Leo stood to one side crying and pleading with her father but he didn’t seem to hear, but in the end he left and dad sent us into the kitchen to get a mug of tea and calm down. Mother hugged Leo when I explained what happened but still it took a while before we went back to the design room and began to lay out the things she’d brought. The amount she brought surprised me. Six bottles of coloured ink, and a fountain pen for each colour, a pad of special paper with a lined sheet to go underneath, pencils, rubbers and a host of small items. We tried various arrangements before deciding and firing up the CAD programme. I photographed each arrangement saying, “We’ll need them for your project and we’ll need to convince Singhy that you are doing the work and not me. Before she left I downloaded them on to a flash drive so she could put them on her computer and select the ones she wanted for her notes. We barely had time to find the wood for the carcase and run it through the sanding machine to clean it up and get it to the right thickness before Rita arrived. That amazed Leo. She’d spend two afternoons sanding wood and the machine did it better in a few minutes.

Dad only checked on us once while we did the design work but he stood by while I set up the sanding machine and showed her how to feed the wood through. Leo enthusiastically explained to her mother with speech and signing, what we’d done and showed her the CAD drawing and the wood. She smiled and showed her pleasure at Leo’s happiness but I’m sure she hadn’t a clue about the drawing or the plain pieces of wood however smooth they felt. I’d enjoyed her company too and hoped we’d get together frequently. “Can we have another session on Saturday morning?” I tentatively asked and when that seemed acceptable, I went on, “I’m racing the IOM on Wicklebrook Pond in the afternoon, maybe Leonie might like to come along.” I had to repeat the message because Leo wasn’t facing me and then explain that the IOM was an International One-Metre model racing yacht with radio control. “Mother usually takes me and there will be room enough in the car for Leo, and you too if you’d like to come.”

To my surprise she took me up on the offer, “Ivan’s working this weekend so I’m free.” We agreed with mother that Leo and Rita could stay to lunch with us and we’d travel in the one car. Dad, as always, had something he just had to finish!

Leonie and I kept together as much as possible during the next two days; I met her at the gate, we ate lunch together and discussed our homework, almost as if we’d been together for years. On the Friday, Leo showed me the first two sheets of her woodwork project and it certainly would put mine to shame. The text in green ink with purple ink headings, all neatly done in copper plate script, interspaced with a montage of photographs and a separate sheet with the CAD design looking out of place amidst the other hand work. She used a quality cream coloured paper and protected each page inside a transparent punched envelope. I wondered if she’d really become enamoured with woodwork or if she did it to please me. Perhaps a little of both?

“If the pieces of your first project are still in the scrap box, we ought to photograph them to put alongside the finished article,” I suggested and we found them where we’d dumped them on Wednesday. Singhy didn’t even question our taking them.

Friday night, I talked over her project with dad, “Make a similar box and use it to show Leo what to do,” he suggested, “That way you won’t have to work on her box and can use it as the demonstration piece and you may well be able to sell it to others in her writing group afterwards.” It didn’t take long to get out the materials ready for the morning. I even did some extra pieces for her to practice on.

Rita brought Leo about 9 o’clock and promptly left with mother to visit the local farmer’s market; dad spent the time in the machine shop preparing timber and moulding it so Leo and I were on our own for most of the morning. Several times I placed my hands on hers to show her how to use a tool and she used it as an excuse to get me to demonstrate more times than were really necessary but we both enjoyed ourselves. Dad sent us to the kitchen to make tea mid morning but we weren’t alone for long. Dad came in and talked about the project and wanted to see her folder but she hadn’t brought it that morning.

Mother and Rita obviously got on well at the market and were chattering like old friends when they called us in for a quick lunch before going to Wicklebrook Pond. Leo and I sat close together in the back and surreptitiously held hands, while our mothers gossiped in the front.

For once, the weather and the wind were near ideal for the racing and a dozen boats in the IOM class assembled on the grass by the clubhouse where we were sheltered and could rig the sails and check the working of the R.C. controls. Racing wasn’t due to start for another hour but a fleet of classic boats of all shapes and sizes and rigs were on the pond to provide spectator interest. I competed in three races and the best place was a third. This was the most exciting race for me because for most of the way I kept in second position and not far behind the leader but I fluffed the final turn at the buoy and lost precious inches and although I gained most of it again, I lost ‘by a nose’. While other classes were racing, I tried to explain the rules to Leo but her lack of hearing made it difficult for us to look in the same direction and for me to speak with her. She’d showed me a few signs but they were only for greeting and saying good-bye.

Leo looked as sad as I felt when we had to part. Both of us would have like to have parted with a kiss but didn’t dare with her mother there and we doubted her father would allow her to visit again on the Sunday.

Leonie

In only a few hours, Ian and I became ‘an item’. He met me at the school gates and we ate together and spent and spent as much time as possible in each other’s company. I made a special effort with my woodwork project folder on Thursday evening, in fact I worked on it until very late and finished several pages in the style I use for the retro letters group. Ian praised it highly and said it was far better than his computer produced effort.

Mother drove me to his workshop on Saturday morning and to my surprise, Ian had prepared wood for a similar box to mine and had spare pieces for me to practice the joints. “It’s got to be your work,” he told me, “When it’s done, you’ll be able to truthfully say, ‘I made it. I cut the joints and fitted it together.’ It’s not going to be you holding the wood while I do the work. I’ll show you each stage and check what you are doing, but I won’t do it for you.” In a way that is what I wanted, but the thought of cutting dovetail joints that fitted perfectly like the ones on his father’s box, filled me with trepidation. He sensed this and said, “I looks complicated but if we treat each stage as a separate item, there is no reason for you not to make a good job of it and the more difficult bits, we’ll do a practice piece first.”

“Firstly, you need to use a rabbet plane to plane a recess for the bottom to fit in,” Ian instructed. I’d never heard of one and found it a little awkward to hold correctly, but Ian put his arms around me and held my hands in the right position and planed it with me. I liked the way he held me and giggled when I asked twice for him to show me again. The second time he held me really close but we broke apart quickly when Ian heard the planing machine his father was using, being switched off. Afterwards he showed off and did his rabbets in half the time. By the end of the morning I’d done far more than I expected. “I think we’ll leave the cutting of the practice dovetails for Wednesday’s lesson at school,” my teacher suggested, “I’ll bring the tools we’ll need because the school ones are never really sharp.” I wondered what Mr. Singh would say when he saw my new project. The fact that he didn’t consider it worthwhile to teach me, made me all the more determined to make a success of it.

When mother and Mary came in to tell us to clean up ready for lunch, I showed her what I’d done. “Looks as if you’ll finish next week,” she joked.

“No, it will take a long while yet, Mum, I haven’t even started on the difficult bits.”

“I think you want to hang the job out to be with Ian,” she signed and laughed. I blushed but laughed too.

In the afternoon we all went to a model yacht pond and I sat in the back with Ian and we held hands. I’ve a feeling our mothers noticed but they said nothing. Even at this early stage of our relationship I thought of him as my boyfriend.

The racing brought some excitement and the pond was an idyllic place to spend the afternoon. With all the different boats on the water, it somehow seemed magical. I didn’t understand the rules or much of what went on but Mary tried to explain it when Ian had to concentrate on manoeuvring his boat. I jumped up and down when I thought his boat might overtake the leader but he did something wrong and came in third. All too soon we had to return home and I knew dad wouldn’t allow me to visit Ian the next day. To do so would arouse his suspicions as what we did and his mind would immediately come to the wrong conclusion and his violent temper could mean, one of us getting hurt. I spent Sunday working on the project and writing a letter to my main pen pal on the group, telling her of the events.

Dad questioned me endlessly about what I done in the workshop and afterwards. I almost had to account for every minute of my time. He wasn’t too happy with mother either for spending the whole day away from the house. I know things aren’t too good between them at the moment. Like me, she didn’t want to come here and they argued for hours over it, but dad forced the issue when he got a job with a contractor building a major motorway link that would bypass Bowthorpeness and several other towns and villages. Mother resents having to give up the house she owned and her job, and so far hasn’t found a suitable one here. I’ve seen them having terrible rows and had to comfort mother a couple of times.

Nobody except Mr. Singh showed much surprise when I went to work on Ian’s bench for the Wednesday’s woodwork lesson. He came as spoke to me but, as usual, I couldn’t see what he said. He turned to Ian and spoke with him but again, I couldn’t see the reply as he faced away from me. By the end of the afternoon, I’d cut and fitted the practice joint and, apart from one open gap where I’d cut on the wrong side of the line, it fitted and I felt proud of my achievement and took it home to show mother.

Ian

Sunday seemed awfully flat and lifeless. I did some minor adjustments to the IOM and then worked on my woodwork project for a while and then on the folder but I didn’t have much enthusiasm for either. Mother noticed and understood. “Rita knows how her daughter feels about you and the restrictions her father puts on her. We talked about you when the pair of you sat watching the boats and she warned that you will have to be very careful especially as Ivan is getting some stick at work for the bypass being behind schedule and that’s making his temper worse than usual. I also asked about learning to sign when I saw Leo showing you some things. Rita gave me the name of a DVD and I ordered it online this morning. We can try to learn it together.”

Leo was sad and a little depressed on Monday when we first met. She said her father had given her the third degree inquisition treatment and hoped he wouldn’t stop her coming altogether. “Mum said that it was unfair and I should have the chance to be with a boy who was helping me with my work and helping me to come to terms with living in a new place. They had another row over it and she refused to stop me coming on Wednesday and Saturdays,” Leo said. She’d cheered up again by the end of the day.

Old Singhy looked surprised when Leo came to my bench and I started instructing her in mime speech, how to mark out the dovetails. He asked her what she intended to make but she couldn’t read his muttering. He turned to me and I told him. “Make sure she does the work, Clarke, I don’t want to see two lots of yours.” I knew when he used my surname, he wasn’t impressed with me, “And make sure you complete your own project,” he added as he walked away. The others in the class looked my way and a few grinned. They knew of our relationship and had sat with us in the dining room.

Three weeks later we were still together and I spent the Wednesday evenings and most of Saturday with Leo, not always doing our woodwork but not doing anything that her dad could complain about either. Whenever I saw him, I feared for my life and always tried to have dad nearby. I like her mother and we get on well and I know she was relieved to get a job as a receptionist at a doctor’s surgery that suited her hours. I mostly called for Leo in the morning and we walked to school together because her mother started work half-an-hour before the school.

To try and get the bypass back on schedule, the construction workers worked extra hours and Rita always brought and came for Leo but to keep the peace at home, she only allowed Leo to visit at the specified times although she usually also stayed on Saturday afternoons too and came to the pond once. About this time I saw an advert for a French film at a local film club on a Friday evening, and the advert said it had subtitles. “Do you think we could go to see the film?” I asked Rita, “It finishes at 9.30.” I knew Ivan didn’t get in until 10 o’clock.

With some reservations, Rita agreed but insisted we return well before ten whether the film had ended or not. The cinema is only a ten-minute walk from their home so it shouldn’t have been a problem. Unfortunately, the low loader carrying the concrete beams the construction workers needed for a bridge, broke down and the men decided it would be nice to knock-off early and spend some time in the pub. Ivan came straight home flew into a rage when he found Leo had gone to the cinema with me and slapped his wife hard a couple of times and giving her a black eye and a swollen face although I didn’t find that out until the next day. Leo and I cuddled like lovers in the cinema and I had my arms around her during the walk to her home. My watch showed 9.45 when we arrived at her gate and gave her a hug and what should have been a quick kiss but she threw her arms around my neck and we kissed passionately. I hardly saw the door open and Ivan coming at me and the next thing I remembered was coming to in the ambulance. According to witnesses, he’d punched my face twice and held me with one hand and thumped me in the chest and stomach with the other.

Leonie

A horrible end to a wonderful evening. We’d sat close and held hands and kissed a few times in the darkness. For the first time I felt loved. We did see the film, mainly because we were surrounded by other, older folk. It ended on time and we left and cuddled as we walked home. I wanted another kiss and the peck he gave me wasn’t enough, so I pulled him close and gave him a kiss like we’d seen in the film. Next thing I knew, father had thrown me hard against the garden wall and I slid to the ground, my shoulder giving me pain. I saw Dad punching Ian and he just collapsed when father let him go and lay motionless on the pavement. Mum came out looking terrible, her face swollen and bruised. By then a crowd had gathered and a group of skinheads yelled at Dad and for a while it looked as if he was about to take them on but then we heard the sirens and the police cars arrived. Mum had phoned them and we found out later several of the onlookers had as well.

Even when they arrived dad didn’t calm down but angrily stood with his fists clenched and told them to clear off, he actually used a lot of swear words at them too. Being somewhat to one side of him, I couldn’t read all that he said but I picked up enough to know what went on. An older officer tried to talk to him but only received further abuse in reply and then dad turned on a young policewoman standing at the side. To her credit, she didn’t move when he approached and, when he stood only a foot or two out of range to hit her, she whipped out her pepper spray and blasted his face. The other officers quickly handcuffed him and took him away.

The medics came and attended to Ian and put him on a trolley and into the ambulance. One saw mother and I and took one look at her face and told us to get in the ambulance too. We were well on the way before Ian woke up and mother had to use her strength to prevent me going to him.

Chaos at the hospital. I wanted to be with Ian but we were kept away so the doctors could do their work. The police tried to get statements but mother had difficulty in talking because of her swollen face and I couldn’t read what she said. My crying would not have helped. Several times a policeman came to speak with me but I couldn’t understand him. Mother must have told someone of my deafness and they sent the ‘pepper spray’ girl but before she could say anything the doctor called me in for examination while another examined mother. Fortunately he didn’t find any broken bones but I’d have severe bruising of my shoulder and it would be sore for a while. They photographed my injury and I noticed they did mother too. She signed me she had a cracked jaw and they were checking on internal injuries from the punches she’d taken to the stomach and they intended to keep her in for observation but I could go home. The ‘pepper spray’ girl, Sally Wyman, came and sat with me and spoke slowly and clearly and tape-recorded my answers. I told her about everything, mainly to delay them sending me away before I knew how Ian fared. Mother had been taken for tests in another room so Sally was the only one I felt confident to talk to.

About then, Mary and Bert came in and Mary gave me a hug until I cried out with the pain. They hadn’t been told anything on their son’s condition. “We have to wait until he comes out of theatre and they expect that to be another hour,” Bert informed me. I talked to them as best I could and Sally left us. A nurse came and took me to a ward to see mother and Mary came too. “They are going to keep me in probably only until the morning, to make sure I am okay.” Mary had to translate for me because of mum’s distorted mouth.

“You’d better stay with us Leo,” Mary went on, “Ian’s bed is made up so you can sleep in there. We’ll drive you to your house to pick up anything you need for tonight or more likely, it will be tomorrow morning before we get home.” A nurse came and gave mother an injection to make her sleep and suggested we called in the morning to see her and maybe take her home.

Bert came and fetched us and we went to see Ian. He looked awful. His face was bruised and swollen and he had tubes coming out of his nose and wires connecting him to a monitor. He slept through our visit but we did hear from the doctor, that his injuries were not life threatening but he would be in pain for some time. He’d a broken jaw, cracked ribs and multiple bruising. I wept at the sight and I know Mary wasn’t far off but kept control of herself for my sake.

I didn’t sleep much that night. Mary gave me some painkillers for my shoulder and we sat talking until nearly 2 a.m. before I crawled into Ian’s bed, wishing he was in there with me. I arose early, before six, and went and made some tea. Bert came down and made a cup too and we talked about my future, what would happen to Dad, how we would live on mother’s income. I had no idea how to answer some of the things. Mother did all the paperwork and accounting.

Before we left for the hospital, Mary answered the phone and turned towards me so I could read her lips. “Yes, we’ll call in after we’ve been to see Rita and our son. You’ll need to have someone who speaks very clearly to interview Leonie because she’s totally deaf, someone like Sally Wyman who she talked to last night.” I guessed the police had called.

Ian still looked awful. The tubes had gone but the wires remained and a monitor beeped in the background. They’d sat him up a little and told us we could only stay a short while because he needed to rest but we could come back in the afternoon and evening during normal visiting hours.

At the police station the interviews and statements took hours, or so it seemed. They brought Sally in on her time off but she said not to worry and, at the end, I asked what would happen to Dad. “They’ll probably throw the book at him. Grievous bodily harm to three people, resisting arrest, and attempting to assault a police officer, to start with and I daresay the legal people will come up with more. Almost certainly the case will go to crown court and he could get several years in prison. There were many witnesses to the assault because of the cinema emptying and all the people around you making their way home. He’ll probably be remanded in custody by the magistrates until the case comes to court but that won’t be for several months.” That cheered and depressed me. I’d be afraid to be near him now, but I remembered some of the good times I’d had when younger.

Ian

I recovered quicker than expected. Not that I was really fit but I could walk, albeit like an old man, and could do most things that didn’t require much effort. My face still looked a mess and I could have stayed off school longer but Leo’s life there wasn’t as easy without a partner. Mother drove me to their house and we picked Leo up and I kissed her and we held hands in the back of the car. We got some strange looks from the students when she stood up in the middle of the afternoon while the teacher spoke about Chaucer, and said in her odd way that I’d begun to love, “I’m taking Ian home, he is too exhausted to continue working.” Some wag in the class suggested we would be working in bed, which brought forth laughter that Leo didn’t understand and I had to explain it later. She was right though, the first day had tired me more than I anticipated. She texted mother who picked us up and I spent an hour lying on the top of the bed with Leo close alongside me. The wag wasn’t too far from the truth even if I wasn’t fit enough to ‘work in the bed’.

“You might as well stay here Leo, your mother’s coming here for dinner and we’re going to have a family discussion afterwards that involves you and her,” Mother popped in and caught us kissing but said nothing. We’d left the door ajar anyway.

I pondered on what the family discussion would be about and wondered if it meant Rita and Leo would return to where they came from. I’d heard it mentioned that they had financial problems with the high rent for their home here but nothing more. Leo hadn’t heard anything either.

After dinner we all sat around the fire and for once Leo sat on her own, facing us. That way she could ‘hear’ what everyone said. Rita stood and began talking and signing.

“The one good thing about Ivan, at least in the end, he worked hard and brought home a good wage. With it we could afford to pay the high rent on our furnished house. He rented the house, and it’s in his name, because he expected us to move again when they finished the bypass. With only my present wages coming in, I cannot afford to keep it on and must look for somewhere else or move back into my house in Maplehaven. Actually although we’ve called it our house, my parents own in and gave it to us to live in rent-free if we paid taxes and kept it decorated. A few months ago, I would only have been too glad to go back home and I know Leonie would too but now we’ve become established here and have friends like you,” she turned to mum and dad, “The choice wasn’t so easy to make. I asked around for accommodation but we could only get a two bedroom flat for the money I could afford. When I pointed this out to Mary, she suggested clearing and decorating some of the unused rooms in this old house. They admit it will take a lot of work and Leo, we’ll have to rough it for a while but if you agree and Ian doesn’t mind, that is the option I would take. Were you able to take that in Leo?” She nodded. “Do wish to stay here, even if we have to rough it for a while, or go back to Maplehaven.”

My heart thumped while she appeared to think but I’m sure she only did it for effect. “I have a writing box to finish,” she grinned and came and hugged me.

Leo

I’d had an inkling of what was going on because I’d seen mum and Mary talking when they believed I wasn’t close enough to pick out their words. I could only get one side of it but putting it together with the fact we were looking for another place to live, I got pretty close to the truth. Another clue was provided when she took me to her doctor’s clinic soon after they took dad away, and put me on the pill. “It’s only a precaution in case your emotions get carried away. It’s not that I’m giving you permission to have sex, or suggesting you do, just a precaution to prevent pregnancy if you get carried away and go further than kissing.” The odds on us doing it now, or at least when Ian regained his fitness, were a hundred times greater than when dad ruled our lives and kept us in fear.

We remained chaste for another fortnight. We openly kissed and cuddled and he’d felt my tits and I’d rubbed his prick through his jeans, but we hadn’t seen each other naked or gone any further than touching. At the time, mother and I shared the guest room while in our spare time, we decorated my room and Bert and Ian repaired the floor to mother’s.

Every so often, I had a flash back to that terrible night and would wake up shaking. It wasn’t really a nightmare but bad enough to wake me and keep me awake for a while. I told Ian one morning on the way to school, and he joked, “If it happens again, come to me and I’ll comfort you.” I thumped his arm and we both laughed.

I had a flash back and woke, looked at the time, 2.07. In the glow of the landing light I could see mother sleeping and wondered if opening the door would wake her. I didn’t think it did, but found out later she heard it but thought I might have gone to the loo and when I didn’t return, decided I was old enough to do what I wanted. She didn’t want to be like dad.

Ian slept as I quietly entered his room but woke when I lifted the duvet and crawled in and kissed him. “You offered to comfort me…” I began but his kisses covered any further explanation. We proceeded slowly. Each exploring the other’s body and playing sexually until I couldn’t stand it any longer and said crudely, “Fuck me Ian, fuck me please.” I knew his readiness because my hand held his hard erect prick and he only awaited my command. Fortunately he didn’t rush in and ravish me, the after effects of his beating still caused him some pain, so almost too slowly for me, his prick entered my vagina and moments later, tore my hymen. There wasn’t the pain I expected and I whispered for him to continue. He did. With all the foreplay, I came quickly and shortly after he flooded my womb with his sperm. I prayed the pills worked. After more cuddling we drifted off to sleep.

“Knock, knock, knock,” and the door opened, “Wake up you two. Breakfast in ten minutes. You’ve work to do today getting our rooms habitable,” Mother spoke and signed.

“You didn’t have to come in, Ian would have woken me,” I complained, blushing.

Mary said to check you hadn’t exhausted her poor boy,” mother joked and left. At least our relationship was in the open now and they didn’t seem too concerned. Apparently, I found out later, they’d discussed this happening before we had the meeting and decided, that if it happened, as it probably would, then they’d treat it as a normal thing. We’d both been under a lot of stress and they knew we both loved and cared for each other. Mother quietly suggested that it might be better for us to sleep in our own beds on school days but we didn’t always keep to that.

Mother’s parents, my grandparents, and Bert’s father came to stay over Christmas and I had to give up my room. I think it shocked granddad more than grandma that I moved in with Ian for a week.

With Ian’s help, my writing box is almost complete and is well ahead of schedule. I’ve enjoyed making it and plan to make a small table for my room next. I’ve already picked out a slab of figured mulberry that Bert hid many years ago, for the top. “It looks rough and knotty but when it is cleaned up and polished it will look superb,” Bert told me, bringing back memories of the rough wood, Mr. Singh gave me little more than four months previously. How things changed in a short time.

Finis