Mitch

[billykins]

BabyJay - I have to confess there will be more to come.  I've only just started collating the various accounts of subsequent proceedings, and as at first sight it looks fairly torrid I thought I'd take a break and row back into calmer waters for a while...

It is not the end.  It is not even the beginning of the end.  But it may be, the end of the beginning.

[Sandra B]

Mitch (contd.)

64.
Shirley’s motives in starting up P & S were complicated.  She had inherited a large sum of money two years before, and in casting about for an investment – or at least an occupation – she had decided to be governed by her natural instincts.  She had been encouraged by her best friend, Mandy, who shared her belief and interest in innovative methods of training and discipline, and together they had purchased the land and buildings (once, appropriately perhaps, a dairy farm) which, with modernisation and development, now constituted the headquarters of P & S.  Of  course there was an element of prurience – shared by her co-director Mandy – but she had believed that, in addition to the satisfaction of providing a useful service to both parents and children, there was a real business opportunity to be grasped.  She had seen so many parents driven to despair by the behaviour of their children – nearly always boys, and nearly always worsening before and during puberty – for which available therapies were rarely effective, and in some cases could make the behaviour worse, as the child reacted against what it saw as unwarranted intrusion into its private feelings. 
It was clear to her that sex was at the root of the problem – to be precise, the onset of heightened libido without a concurrent outlet for it.  Frequently the parent or guardian of the child reacted to bad behaviour with increased restrictiveness of its freedoms, which simply made the problem worse.  Shirley thought she could bring a fresh approach to the whole area, by relieving the sexual pressure in a variety of ways, some physical, some psychological.  Her methods were influenced by a belief that an aggravating factor was the child’s distress and confusion caused by the changes it was undergoing.  For some, there was a desire to return to a time in their lives when they were untroubled by sexual pressures – to babyhood - or for boys to aspire to a gender where life seemed more peaceful and simple – to girlhood.  Most parents, blinded by what they expected or wanted their children to aspire to, would have been incapable either of sensing or indulging such tendencies.  But Shirley reasoned that, in the absence of clear evidence, and on the basis only of her own instincts, boys should be offered the choice (or sometimes have it imposed upon them) of making such lifestyle changes.  Now, whether this was a morally justifiable policy, either in the short or longer term, it was a central part of her creed, and the obvious delight she derived from putting it into action should not detract from the purity of her mission.
Her experiences with the four boys so far delivered into her care had only reinforced her convictions.  The most remarkable changes had been wrought on Meredith – effectively by giving him an excess of what she believed he needed.  Therefore she determined to expand the experiment, for which purpose one of the rooms, number thirteen, was being adapted.
The builders had been in for several days, but now everything was finished and ready.  On the Monday, Shirley, Mandy, Yulya and Anna went to inspect the result.
The new apparatus was designed to cater for two boys at a time.  In the middle of the room the builders had installed four vertical stainless steel poles, about the size of scaffold poles, bolted to the floor and to the ceiling.  They were arranged as if at the four corners of a one metre square.  Each pole was equipped with a series of steel rings, welded at intervals up its length, and from the bottom rings of opposing pairs a taut steel chain ran between the two poles.  Next to each pair of poles was a blue metal box about a foot square, stencilled “MILKMAX III”.  These were plugged into floor sockets.

“These are the latest model of milking machine,” explained Shirley.  “They have a much bigger range of speed and suc-king power, all controlled by these dials on the side.  And once the milk enters the reservoir inside, the machine is powerful enough to pump it upwards to a receiving bottle at head height or higher - or indeed, anywhere,” she added with a quick, enigmatic smile.  “It uses  the finest capillary tubing so that the movement of fluid is almost instantaneous.  All the sheaths and tubes and reservoirs are stored in there” – she pointed to a full-length cupboard built into the wall – “as well as the automatic washing cabinet.  You will see I have had good bright lighting installed, and cameras to record the whole process - but there are also chairs for anyone that would like to watch the operation at close quarters.”
“Very beautiful, simple design,” said Yulya.  “You very clever woman, Miss Shirley.”
“You approve then, Yulya?  After all, you’re going to be in charge of it.  I believe there’s a manual in the cupboard, too.  Yes, here we are.”
“I will read very carefully.  So…one boy here…and other boy here…?”
“Yes. Facing each other.  They’ll be able to watch each other being milked.  I’m hoping they will act as a stimulus to each other.”
Mandy was fascinated.  “So Shirley – They’ll be secured to the rings and the chain, right?”
“That’s right.  They’ll be cuffed, then all we have to do is attach them with carabiners or screw-links.  No padlocks needed.”
“But how…?”
“How do we get them in there in the first place?  By force, or subterfuge, I guess.  And we do have our new disciplinary assistant…”
“Mrs Buffy-Hopkins?” asked Yulya.
“Buff-Hopkins, yes.  Though I believe she prefers to be addressed as Miss now, since her husband ran away.”
“He ran…?”
“Yes.  A long way away, as I understand.  But our boys will have nowhere to run, will they…?

[Sandra B]

65.
Shirley had arranged for the prospective trainees to be introduced over a period of weeks.  From her interviews with the parents, she had so far  ascertained that there were at least two ‘hard cases’, and one boy whose mother had referred to him, amongst other things, as “a bit of a wimp”.  This boy interested her, partly because she didn’t much like the mother’s attitude, and she suspected his problems may stem from her parenting skills – or lack of them.  So she had booked him in for the following Wednesday, the fourteenth, and pencilled the two in for the following week.  Mitch was in Devon for two weeks, so the remainder could be saved until the Monday after his return, which would be the twenty-sixth of August, when he would be able to work his girlish wiles again.

While the new equipment was being inspected, at Second Beckleyford Scout Hut there was something of a sensation.  Moira had decided to spring her surprise on the Scouts just as they were about to leave for camp.  She knew all the parents would be there to see the children off, and she was banking on their support.  She had ordered enough shorts in a range of sizes so that none of the boys should be disappointed, and with the help of the parents was matching each pair to a boy.  She had been unable to resist the temptation to retain tight little frills at the legs, and though these now matched the navy blue latex of the rest of the garment, she had requested the leg openings be decorated with a thin band of yellow piping as well, just above the frilling, to finish them off.  They had plain zip flies and belt loops just like ordinary shorts, though it had been impossible to incorporate real pockets.  The parents were unanimous in their approval of the new look, especially as Moira had sweetened the pill with new troop T-shirts for everyone, mauve with yellow-bordered neck and sleeves, and “2nd. Beckleyford” in yellow letters across the chest, short mauve socks with yellow tops, and navy troop baseball caps with yellow peaks, so that everything matched the troop neckerchiefs.  The girls were happy – the loved the new clothes – though they all opted to retain their trousers.  But for the boys Moira made it clear the new look was compulsory, and in strict accordance with regulations.  She explained her policy to the parents.
“In the past, I have been criticised for allowing a degree of untidiness in the boys when we’re on one of our trips.  And I’m sure you’re aware that, rambling thorough the countryside, their old trousers tend to get torn and dirty.  Unfortunately the boys lack the girls’ sense of order and discipline, and go galloping off the path into the bushes despite all instructions to the contrary.”
“That’s right,” piped up one mother.  “And he hates it when I try to sew them up.  He demands new ones.  And I can’t afford to keep buying him new clothes…”
“Yes, I appreciate that.  Now, these shorts fit snugly, so they don’t get snagged.  If they get muddy, all they need is a quick rinse, and they’re like new again.  And they look so smart for when the troop goes into town.”
“But miss, the pockets are fake!” piped up one of the troop.  “Where we gonna put our things?”
“Things?  What things?  Do you mean your hands, Stephen?”  she added, to the amusement of the parents.
“No.  You know…like knives, an’ compass, an’ stuff…”
“Well, you’ve got your belt purses for money already, and these new shorts come with leather knife sheaths and compass holders.”
“Yeah…but they’re yellow…”
“And?”
“They look…sorta gay…”
“You have yellow on your scarves, on your socks and shirts and caps – even on your shorts.”
“Yeah, but…”
“Stop arguing, Stephen,” called his mother.  Do what Miss Sullivan tells you, and that’s an end of it!”
There were still a few murmured complaints, but the adults won the day, delighted that their kids had a troop leader willing and able to take a firm hand with them.  So at her insistence, the boys changed, leaving all other nether garments behind, and were soon filing into the coach in their nice new uniforms.  The driver, a woman in her thirties, looked a little surprised.
“Is that a new uniform your boys are wearing?” she asked Moira.
“Yes.  Do you like it?  More practical than trousers for hiking through the countryside.”
“Oh, yes, I see…  and very smart, I must say…” she added, thoughtfully.
Mitch was secretly pleased.  He thought it was about time someone else tried them out – even if they weren’t quite like the ones he’d worn to Sharon’s party.

Because of the boys’ reluctance, the girls got to the front of the queue, and nabbed the back seats on the coach.  All through the journey they whispered sly remarks which Moira, at the front, was unable to hear.
“Mmm…  Daphne?  What’s that smell?  It’s like…”
“Oh, yes.  Hot rubber.  I wonder where that’s coming from?”
“Of course!  I’d forgotten.  The boys are all wearing little rubber shorts, aren’t they?”
“So they are!  I wonder what it feels like?”
“I bet they like it.  All soft and stretchy.  Comfortable for their little…”
“Shut up!”  Daniel had turned round, his face red with annoyance.
“Ooh!  Daniel!  You look very red in the face…  Are your new shorts getting you overheated?”
He swore and turned back.  The fact was it was warm in the coach, and the smooth latex was arousing.  He held his rucksack on his lap to hide the bulge.  He hoped he could get himself under control before they stopped for lunch…
When the coach stopped in a picnic area and the Scouts alighted, it became obvious it was a general problem.  The girls had a good giggle, while the boys made a rush for the picnic tables by the trees to hide their embarrassment.  Moira was happy because her plan was working even better than she could have hoped.  Normally these trips left her frazzled and exhausted from trying to keep the boys in line.  A coach stop would have been the excuse for them going berserk, running everywhere and screaming at the top of their lungs.  Today, however, their wonted rowdiness had been silenced,  Their only concern was not to attract attention to themselves.  They sat quietly munching their sandwiches, not even looking at each other.  She mentally patted herself on the back.  “They can let rip when they’re out in the wilds, somewhere,” she thought.  “The main thing is I’m not going to be embarrassed by them in public.  I feel sure of that.  In town they’re going to be as nice as pie and as quiet as mice!  Thank you, Shirley, for the great idea!”

The Scout centre, on the eastern edge of Dartmoor, could accommodate several troops.  Some were already installed, witness the little groups of tents dotted about the main field adjacent to the complex of buildings.  It was early afternoon when their coach pulled into the car park.  It was sunny and mild with a light breeze; perfect weather for putting up tents.
The girls were first out, dancing and running about with excitement.
“Where are we, miss?  Look, I like that far corner of the field over there, next to the big hedge.  Can we go there?”
“I don’t know, Janice.  I’ll have to check which area we’ve been allocated.  Come with me and we’ll find out.  The rest of you wait here for a minute.”  She went to walk away, but stopped after only a few yards.  “Boys?  Please come out of the coach.  The driver needs to go.  Make sure you’ve got all your things.  Mitch?  You’re responsible for checking that nothing’s been left behind.”
“Yes, miss.”
Daniel was hovering at the coach door.
“But, miss…  There are loads of Scouts here already…  They’re gonna laugh at our new shorts…”
“Nonsense!  If anything, they’ll be jealous,” she replied, suppressing a smile.  “Now come on.  No more excuses.  Come on Janice.  Let’s go to the office.”

Reluctantly, the boys alighted.  Mitch checked the coach, and when he was sure everything was out, he told the driver she could leave.
“Have a lovely time, kids!” she called, shutting the door and starting the engine.  And soon she was gone, leaving a little knot of boys hovering in one corner of the car park.
“How long is she gonna be?” said Stephen.  “Those kids over there on the path are staring at us.”
“What are you smirking at?”  Daniel had suddenly noticed the only one of the group unfazed was Mitch.
“Nothing.  Only you’re all making it worse, acting so self-conscious.  Just bluff it out.  You’ll be fine.”
“He may have a point,” said Michael.  “I mean, they’re not too bad really.  As long as you keep still and don’t think of anything…you know…”
“It’s not even that,” persisted Daniel.  “Look at yourself.  Little tiny rubber shorts with frills!  And that yellow trim.  And there’s nowhere to put your hands!  I feel so…awkward…and exposed.!”
“Yeah,” added Stephen, “ and when you walk, they’re so slippery inside, and it won’t stay still…”
“Oh, stop complaining,” grinned Mitch.  “Enjoy the freedom.  And we all look so cute, what with our matching shirts and socks and scarves.  Imagine the looks we’re gonna get when we go into town…”
“Shit.  I forgot that,” said Michael.  “Our favourite sweet shop.  Last year – remember? – we were chatting up those girl assistants?”
“fuc-k.  He’s right.  We can’t go in there like this.”
“But we have to!  It’s the best sweet shop in the world.”
“We could send one of the girls in…”
“It wouldn’t be the same.  We need to be able to choose the sweets…”
“In any case, they’d refuse.  They’d make us go in ourselves…”
“That’s right…”
A pause.
“We’re fuc-ked,” said Daniel, succinctly.

At this juncture Moira and Janice returned from the office, the latter obviously excited.
“We got that corner!”
“Great.  Yay!” cried her friend Marcella.  “Let’s go!”
Being in the farthest corner turned out to be both a blessing and a problem.  They were nicely tucked away out of sight, but when they needed to visit the toilet or the canteen, they had to run the gauntlet of nearly every troop in the field.  And in the main complex, there was nowhere to hide.  After they had pitched camp, the boys went off two by two for moral support, and returned two by two with their cheeks burning.  Daniel was outraged.
“Miss?  Everyone was staring at us!  Some of them were…giggling!  One kid was laughing openly, so I said if he didn’t stop I’d punch him!”
“Really, Daniel?  That’s definitely not very Scout-like, is it?  So what happened?”
Daniel looked hurt.  “He just collapsed on the floor, helpless with laughter.  I was so angry, I had to walk away.  It’s not fair…”
“Well that’s good.  You didn’t take the bait.  This will be a great test of your resilience and fortitude.  If you all make it through camp without any bad behaviour, I’m going to arrange a treat for you afterwards.  That’s a promise.  So please, try to be good this year.”

[Sandra B]

66.
Shirley had had two phone conversations with an Alisia Denistoun, about her son Paul, who was, according to the mother, not only a wimp, but “impossible”.  The use of that word made Shirley immediately suspicious, implying as it did a willingness to give up.  No proper mother ever gave up on her child.  Paul was “constantly sulking, rude and difficult.  He won’t do this, won’t do that, he  positively ignores my friends when they come round – it’s so embarrassing – his father’s never here – long hours in court – and how am I supposed to cope, with a baby to look after?”
“I’m sure it must be very difficult for you, but…”
“Impossible!  I can’t go on like this.  I…oh, I have to go.  Jemimah’s crying…”
“Well bring him round.  Next Wednesday morning?  Shall we say ten?”
“I shall.  Thank you so much.  And will he be able to board…?”
“Of course.  He’ll have his own room, and…”
“Perfect.  See you Wednesday.  Must go.”
Shirley was getting the picture.  But it would take a face-to-face meeting to gather more evidence.  It happened as scheduled the following Wednesday.

Paul’s mother was a brisk, impatient woman.  She marched into the lobby behind a clearly expensive baby buggy with a heavy brown linen hood.  Her son skulked behind her, carrying a little suitcase.
“Good morning.  Mrs Denistoun, I presume?  Very nice to meet you.” 
Shirley greeted the woman with apparent interest, but her real attention was on the son, who now took up an unostentatious position in the recess behind the door.  He seemed tired, he was frowning, and looking anywhere but at the reception committee, which consisted of Shirley herself, Yulya, neatly and demurely dressed for the occasion as a maid-of-all-work, and Jasper, attired in his football strip, for no other reason than to look sporty and perhaps put the new arrival at ease.  His mother had mentioned an interest in sports.
“You must be Miss Dearman.  Yes, well, here I am.”  She turned the buggy so that Shirley could see inside.  “And here is baby Jemimah.  Isn’t she just the cutest thing you’ve ever seen?”
Shirley looked coldly at the baby.  It’s face looked back from the midst of a halo of ruffles.  The only thing that makes a baby cute is a smile, and this one didn’t have one.  It was blowing bubbles and apparently trying to focus on the end of the smudge that would become its nose.  She turned to the boy by the door.
“And this must be Oliver.”  She smiled.  “Hello Oliver.  How are you today?”
Oliver didn’t answer, but simply frowned more darkly than ever.
“Oliver!  Say hello to Miss Dearton.”  (Shirley didn’t bother to correct her.)  “Don’t be so rude!  You know how to behave.  It’s really…”
“Please.  Mrs Denistoun.  Please.  Let Paul come and meet some of his new friends, and see his room, and have something to drink, if he’d like.  We can take over now.  We like to keep these partings as short and simple as possible.  Less stress on both sides.  So, please, feel free…”
She indicated the door.  Mrs Denistoun did not seem at all averse to a quick departure.
“Oh, thank you.  I do have an appointment at my hairdresser’s, as a matter of fact.  Sherston’s, you know…  They’re sticklers for time…”  She glanced at Oliver.  “Do be good, won’t you dear?  Do whatever Mrs Dearchild tells you.  And I’ll see you… soon…”
And she was gone.

Shirley and Yulya exchanged glances.  Shirley gave Yulya a nod, meaning, “I think you’d be better than me at introductions,” and Yulya at once went over, knelt down, and gave Paul a hug.
“Come with Yulya, darling.  Come on, hold my hand, and we go have look around, shall we?  Shall I take case? You very big boy, no?  Twelve or thirteen…?”
“Eleven,” said Oliver, looking up for the first time.
“Goodness, you look older.  Very handsome, too.  Maybe we go to canteen first, yes?  See what buns are today?  Or straight to room?”
For the first time, the frown seemed to have melted from Paul’s brow.
“Buns?”
“Yes, Miss Shirley make sure are always nice buns, with currants and icing.  Other things, too, but buns are best.  Look, Paul, this Jasper.  He is going to be good friend to Oliver.”
“Hi Oliver.  Your mum said you’re into sports.  Do you play football?”
“Yes.”
“What position?”
“Forward.”
“Oh.  I like to be a defender.  Even goalie.  Cos I’m tall for my age, see?”
“I could put a shot past you, easy.”
“Yeah?  We’ll see.  We’ve got a field out the back.  Later on, if you’re not too busy, we can have a game…”
“Yeah!  What, a football field?”
“No, just a field.  But it’s big enough.”
“Okay…”

Yulya turned back and winked as she led Oliver out of reception.  Shirley looked after them for a while, a thoughtful expression on her face.  Mandy came out of her office.
“How’s the new recruit?”
“A little neglected, I would say.  He’s rather out of our usual line.  Once he’s settled in I want to have a long chat with him.  I think, Mandy, he may be here for some time…”

[Sandra B]

67.
Oliver had decided he’d like to see where he was going to be staying, first of all.  As Yulya led him along the corridor to his new room, his hand gripping hers tightly, a wave of motherly protectiveness swept over her.  He was not the usual miscreant in need of discipline or retraining, but a rather sweet little boy who seemed perhaps to have been lacking proper love and attention.  She had not realised this when she was preparing his room, but she had known he was a little younger than the rest of the new intake, so she had erred on the side of juvenility.
“Here is room, Oliver.  See?  We paint name on door.  Go on.  You can open.”
Oliver turned the handle and gingerly opened the door.  His eyes widened.  “Gosh!  It’s amazing!”
The room was one of those on the outside of the building.  It had a big long window overlooking the fields at the back of the establishment, and sunlight poured in.  The walls were painted alternately pale pink and pale green, and reminded Oliver of Neapolitan ice-cream.  The floor was wooden, painted green.  It was furnished with a cream canvas-covered sofa, a desk and chair, a small white wardrobe with drawers down one side, and a bed with a green coverlet.  The walls were decorated with framed art deco posters depicting various sports – football, skiing, archery, and so on.  Sitting on the bed was a very woolly-looking teddy bear, and on the bedside cabinet, next to the light, sat a knitted doll in a pink smock, smiling happily.
“Well, I hope you like.  Bathroom through here…”  She opened a door in the corner of the room opposite the bed.  “Everything there.  Toothpaste, soap, everything.”
“Wow!  It’s great!  Better than my room at home.  Mummy moved me from my nice bedroom to make way for Jemimah.”  Here the frown returned for a moment.  “Jemimah needs a special place, you see, cos she’s a baby.”
“I see.  Jemimah sounds very important.  But I hope you be happy here, Oliver.  You have some clothes, yes?  But we have lots here too.  You can choose.  Now, leave suitcase, and we go to canteen with Jasper, yes?”

Yulya spent the next hour or so with Oliver, and then left Jasper in charge.  They seemed to get on really well, and Oliver already seemed much happier than when he had arrived.  She went straight to Shirley’s office to report.
“Sit down, Yulya.  What do you think, then?”
“I think we were right, Miss Shirley.  Since baby arrived, mother has no time for him.  He talks about baby a lot.  She get all attention, nice pretty clothes, kisses and cuddles.  He out in cold.  Mother very stupid, I think.”
“That confirms the impression I got.”
“He get on very nice with our Jasper.  Good friends already.  I think Jasper will look after him like brother.  Brother just what he need, I think.”
“Well, today he can relax and get used to his new surroundings, and be with Jasper.  Tomorrow I’d like to have him in for a long chat.  No, in fact, you know what?  I’ll take him out for lunch – maybe even to that bird place – somewhere nice – and see if I can get him to open up.  All right?  Can you arrange that?  Say we leave about eleven, then we can take our time.  I want him to chill.”
“I fix it, Miss Shirley.  This one we need look after.”
“Well, if we don’t, no-one else will…”   

[Sandra B]

68.
So it was that the next day Shirley and Oliver headed off together further into the countryside.  It was sunny and still.  They pulled into a country inn with a big garden, and Shirley ordered burgers and chips, followed by ice-cream for Oliver.  He seemed to be enjoying the novelty of his situation.  When they had finished eating, and Oliver had had a run around with some other boys of his own age, Shirley began to draw him out.
“So Oliver, what do you think about staying with us for a little while?  For a short holiday?”
“I’d like to very much, Miss Shirley,” he replied, mimicking Yulya’s favoured form of address.
“You’ll probably miss your mum and your sister, so if at any time…”
“No.  I mean, no, I don’t think I will…not for a while.  I mean, mum’s okay, and Jemimah…well, she’ll be nice when she’s a bit older.  She smiles sometimes when I put my face right up close, but we can’t really have a proper relationship yet.  And mum…she’s just obsessed.  It’s all she talks about, and all her friends are the same.”
“I should explain…some of the boys we have at P & S have behavioural problems, and are there because they need therapy.  Sometimes they don’t like the therapy, but we tend to get our way.  Now you don’t come into that category…”
“But mum said I was being sent to you for therapy…”
“Well, I suppose a holiday can be therapy.  But you’ll always be free to do what you want.  No-one’s going to pressure you.  Perhaps you just need a break.  So you can live with us for a bit.  Jasper will look after you…”
“I like Jasper.  He’s funny, and clever.”
“I think he likes you too.  And in a couple of weeks Mitch will be back.  He’s Jasper’s friend, and he just as nice.  He’s going to be so happy to meet you.”
“Do you think so?  But he’s a bit older too, isn’t he?”
“Not much older.  He’s only just turned thirteen.  And he’s a sweet kid – like you.”
“I love my room, Miss Shirley.  It’s beautiful.  I slept properly last night.  I haven’t slept that well for weeks…”
“Really?  Why do you think that may be?”
The frown returned.  “My mum ignores me, sometimes.  And she gets short-tempered with me.  But never with Jemimah.  And Jemimah gets fed regularly, and bought nice little outfits, and gets made a fuss of.  I need new jeans – I’ve needed them for months – and she won’t get me any.  And sometimes she forgets to get breakfast, or there’s nothing for supper.  I have to look after myself mostly.  Sometimes I wish I could be Jemimah, and have nice clothes to wear, and get cuddled and fed…”
“Oh, dear, Oliver.  That’s so…a shame.”
“The only time I feel good is when Sarah is babysitting me.  Though that’s been quite often, lately.”
“Sarah?”
“Yeah.  She’s my regular babysitter.  She’s really nice.”
“What’s her last name?”
“Er…Dun something, I think”
“Dunworth?”
“That’s right!  Sarah Dunworth!  How did you know?”
“I know her!  She’s Mitch’s babysitter too!  She a close friend of mine.  I’m not surprised you like her.  She’s fun, isn’t she?”
“Yes!  And she cuddles and tickles me till I nearly wet myself!”
“Oh, yes, that’s her all right.  She good with kids.  She’ll make a great mum one day.”
“I wish she…”
“Wish she…?”
“Nothing.”
Shirley took the plunge.  “Perhaps you wish you were a baby, and Sarah was your mummy,” she said, jokingly.
“I wouldn’t mind…”
“Let’s just pretend for a minute.  Suppose we dressed you up as a little tiny baby, and gave you a dummy to suc-k, and told Sarah she was babysitting a real baby…”
Oliver laughed.  “That would be funny.”
“What do you think she would do?”
“Dunno…she’d laugh…”
“Knowing her, I think she’d play it completely straight.  She’d treat you just as if you were a baby.  Cuddles, and tickles, and kisses, and she’d probably even feed you from a bottle…”
Oliver’s eyes widened.  “Do you think so?”
“I’d bet on it.  We should do it.  Just for a prank.”
“Seriously?  But I wouldn’t fit in baby clothes…”
“Oh, we have baby clothes in all sizes.  We could easily do it.  But I suppose you’d chicken out…”
“No.  Why should I?”
“Well, you’d have to play your part well, like you were a baby.  And you might have to be a girl baby, depending what outfits we could find…”
“I wouldn’t care about that.  But you’re not really serious…are you, miss?”
“Absolutely and completely, Master Oliver.  Well, think about it.  I’d love to see her face.  But now, let’s get off and visit the birdies at Feathers-R-Us, shall we?”
During the short drive Oliver was very quiet and thoughtful.  Shirley held her peace.  He didn’t speak until they were driving into the car park.
“It would be nice to see Sarah.  I’ve forgotten what it’s like to be a baby, but they get all the attention.  And loads of different outfits.”
“Yes, that’s true.”
“So…I mean, if you’re really serious…”
“You’d have to practise as well, you realise.  You’d have to be a convincing baby, or the prank wouldn’t work.  She’d need to be really gobsmacked.”
“I can do that.  I can practice.  I’ll wear baby clothes every day till she comes if you want!”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes, Miss Shirley!  I’ll be the best baby you’ve ever seen!”
“You’ll have to smile and chortle and wriggle just like a happy baby…”
“I know.  I know just what to do.  I’ll be just like Jemimah.”
“All right.  We’ll do it, then.  By the way, does Sarah know you’re here now?”
“I don’t think so…”
“Okay.  Leave it all to me.  Now…is that a peacoc-k?  It is!  Come on, let’s go.”

[Sandra B]

69.
They both seemed to enjoy their afternoon with the birds.  Oliver got another ice-cream, and a heap of things from the gift shop.  He was tired by the time they got back, but not too tired to say thank you, and give Shirley a hug.
“Thank you for taking me – oh, and for lunch, auntie Sh…” 
He broke off when he realised what he had said.
“You can call me auntie, Oliver.  In fact, I’d be proud if you would.”
He laughed, slightly embarrassed.  “Okay…I don’t know why…”
“So it’s auntie from now on.  Right?  We’re all good, then.  Now why don’t you go and show Jasper your stuff, and maybe have a little rest?  You can have some supper later if you feel like it.  You’ll have to excuse me.  I have some work to do.  Bye for now.”
She returned to her office.  For some reason she couldn’t quite fathom, she was feeling good.  After all, why shouldn’t he call her auntie?  Maybe they all should.  After all, there were bad aunties as well as good ones.  But she was no going to be a surrogate mother.  She had deliberately left him quite abruptly in reception.  He needed to find his own way, to learn to adapt to the unfamiliar, to build his confidence.  He was going to need it in the coming years of adolescence.
Mandy knocked at the door and entered.
“Well?  How did it go?”
“He’s a sweetie, all right.  His mother’s gone baby gaga.”
“It happens.”
“It does.  But we’ll sort him out.  And he wants to play babies.”
“He does?  He said so?”
“He said so.  And I’m going to let him.  Big time.  Do you know he has the same babysitter as Mitch?  Sarah.  Sarah Dunworth.  Yes, her.  Coincidence.  We’re going to prank her.  But I may need to borrow your house, Mandy…”

Meanwhile, back in Devon, the Scouts were slowly adjusting to their new uniforms.  Ignoring the stares and tittering from the other troops, the boys braved the canteen at suppertime, and demonstrated good appetites despite their long faces and red cheeks. The tables were turned, however, when, in the midst of the gathering, several other troop leaders were heard to approve the new outfits, and discuss introducing them for their own boys.  This caused consternation amongst the other male Scouts – especially the older ones – and hilarity amongst the girls.  And Mitch and his friends returned to their tents much happier, feeling more like pioneers than victims.
The first evening at camp was always a quiet one, so that the Scouts could settle in and relax after their journey.  They took off their socks and trainers, their scarves, and their belts, with all the attachments.  They went and collected firewood, and lit a fire.  There was a special area, a circle of sandy ground, and a pile of bricks to contain the wood.  Then they sat around it and toasted crumpets and marshmallows, and talked.  It was impossible for the boys to forget what they were wearing.  The heat of the flames warmed the latex and filled the air with its scent.  One of the girls broached the subject.
“Mitch?  I heard that it was you gave Miss Sullivan the idea for your new shorts.  Is that true?”
“No, not me, Tracey” said Mitch, turning red.  “It wasn’t me.”
“Who then?”
He thought he’d better divert any suspicion away from himself.  “Oh, I think it was some friend of hers.  I dunno.  She runs some sort of clothing company or something.”
“Really.  Interesting.  That wouldn’t be Miss Dearman, would it?”
Mitch froze.  “W-who?”
“Shirley Dearman.  She owns P & S, right?”
“D-does she?”
“You know she does.  You work for her.”  She looked at Mitch spitefully.
“I-I really…you know, it’s nothing to do with…”
“My mum told me.  She was at some hen party, right?  You were a guest too.  Something went on, but she wouldn’t tell me what.  Just that you performed some amazing act in your rubber pants, and they all want you back.  Shirley Dearman made you go, right, cos you’re her employee, and you have to do what she tells you.”
The others were now full of curiosity.
“Is that true, Mitch,” asked Stephen.  “Is that what gave miss the idea?”
“What were you wearing?  Shorts like these? Or…”
“Do you work for her?  What does she do, then?”
“Tracey?  What’s the name of that company again?”
“P & S.  Look it up.  You’ll be surprised.”
“No!” cried Mitch.  But it was too late.
“fuc-k!” said Stephen.  “Look at this!  What?  Pacification and Sissification?  Oh my god, is that you, Mitch?  Look guys, this girl – it’s Mitch!  It is!”
The cat was out of the bag.  Mitch looked daggers at Tracey, who just smiled complacently.  Thank god there were only a few shots of him on the site, and all fairly respectable.  Everyone was gawping at their phones.  Stephen began reading the text.
“We aim to provide everything for the pacification and if necessary the sissification of naughty boys…?”  He stared at Mitch open-mouthed.  “Have you been sissified, then?”
“No!  I work there, that’s all.  Admin stuff.  It’s a legitimate company, and…”
“Look at this stuff,” cried Marcia.  “Gags, and plugs, and…all sorts of things.  Wow, that’s cool!  Do you have to use these, Mitch?”
“No!  I told you.  I’m just admin.  The only reason I’m in some of the photos is cos I’m an actor.  Remember Juliet?  I do girl parts, that’s all…”
“That’s true,” said Daniel.  “You look amazing in these pics, actually.  I thought you were a girl when I first saw…”
“Ooh, do you fancy him, Danny?” taunted Tracey.  “Shall we leave you two alone in the small tent tonight?”
“Shut up.  He’s better looking than you any day.”
Silas wanted to hear all about P & S.  “Please tell us what goes on there, Mitch.  It sounds pretty extreme…”
“Well, I can’t give away company secrets, you know…”
“Oh, come on.  Tell us something...please,” said Michael.
And soon they were all gathering round begging for the inside story.  Realising he had somehow survived being outed by that bitch Tracey, he knew he had to give them something.  So, lowering his voice and looking around secretively, he addressed his audience.
“First you all have to swear, Scouts’ honour, you will never breathe a word of what I’m going to tell you.”
A chorus of “yeah…yeah...no way…never…”
“No, I mean each one of you, with your hand on the badge, hope you die if you lie.”
And they all did it.  Tracey didn’t want to, but she couldn’t resist the pressure of the mob.
“Right.  Well…