This is the third part of a fiction serial, in 1160 words.
Finn.
Finn Mellor was a boy who led two distinctly different lives. In one, he was bright and intelligent. Outwardly happy and confident. He was a good son, and an even better friend. But the other life could not have been more different. In that life, he harboured secrets. He barely contained his doubts and fears, and suppressed those real terrors that he thought might one day tip him over into insanity.
He did it so well, nobody ever noticed. Not Roly, his closest friend. Not Roxanne, his devoted mother. And certainly not Anthony, his sometimes distracted father. A father who seemed more like the grandparents of other boys, and was regularly mistaken for being one of his. All except one. Roly’s mum, Hannah. She alone looked through his eyes, and spotted whatever was lurking behind them. He knew it. He had seen it in her gaze. The way she acted around him, her obvious discomfort. Finn was sure that she knew everything. The unspoken emotions, the pretence of normality. Staying over at Roland’s house became a trial to be feared. A trial by gaze, by glance, by casual insinuation. Always letting him know that she knew. Not suspected. Knew for certain.
For Rolys’ sake, he acted like it wasn’t happening. Roland was his rock, and although he would never tell him, he was also the love of his life. Carrying on without Roly was unthinkable, so Finn did whatever it took to make sure that never happened. He laughed and joked with Hannah, shutting away that cold, snake-eyed look she always gave him, whatever was being discussed. He was afraid of her. Not physically, not even psychologically. Just afraid of what she knew, and if she would ever tell. Nothing in her manner ever let on if she would reveal him to the world. Bring it all crashing down, perhaps just from spite. When Finn had read about the Sword of Damocles, he had understood completely. Roly’s mum was his own version, waiting to fall onto his head one day.
Spending time with his best friend made it all worthwhile. Roland was so good-looking, with those wonderful blue eyes, and a strong body that made him look older than his years. And he was a good person too, always protecting Finn, standing up for him, and never disloyal. Although they were just thirteen, it felt like they had always been together, and would never be parted. For Finn, that was enough. He would never confess his true feelings, those he had felt developing from a time when he was too young to understand them. That would shatter their friendship. Roly would never understand, of that he was convinced.
So Finn played along. He looked at the websites, giggled about the girls that Roly liked, and he pretended to like them too. He even went so far as to confess to fancying Hannah, just to be included in those teenage fantasies. But the thought of her hard muscular female body, the stone-set features, and those dead eyes made him shudder. If his friend wanted to believe it, then so be it.
In an old schoolbag hidden in the bottom of his wardrobe, Finn kept all his most treasured possessions. Photos of him and Roland over the years. Ticket stubs from trips together to the cinema, birthday cards sent to him by his friend, and a small penknife that he had given him one Christmas. It had been bought with his own pocket-money, not purchased by his parents, like most other gifts. And the notebook of course. The notebook.
There was nothing on the cover to betray what was inside, but on the first page was a name, written in capital letters, with red marker pen. ROLAND THALMANN. It was underlined many times, and surrounded by numerous red hearts, clumsily drawn by a young hand. At school, some boys had teased Roland for his German name. But only until he was big enough to make them scared to do that. Finn had asked him about it. Was his dad a German? How did they get that name? All Roland knew was that it was Swiss, not German. Well, maybe German-Swiss. A long time ago, one of his dad’s relatives had come over from Switzerland, and that was that. Nobody seemed to know any more, or be bothered to find out.
Finn loved the fact that his best friend had such an unusual name. On page two of his book, he had written another name, in the same red pen. FINN THALMANN. He always liked the way that looked, and sounded, when he said it out loud. So much nicer than Mellor. Other pages contained fantasy plans for their future. Trips to India, or far-flung deserts. Camping out under the stars, before a fire made from collected sticks. Riding together on a camel, or swimming in blue seas, looking back at beaches with sand like white flour. They headed off together to Australia, finding work on a sheep farm in the outback, or were spending the summer picking grapes in the Loire Valley, in France. All these fantasy lives gave Finn a much needed escape from the real world he inhabited. A world where only one person understood what was really going on. And he wished that she didn’t. There was no comfort in that knowledge, none at all.
Back in the kitchen, the boys were drinking ice cold Sprite. They had left their thirst for too long, and were now gulping the drink down, fighting against the rising belches. Roly put his empty glass by the sink, and turned to his friend. “So, do you reckon your mum might like me too, Flan? I haven’t got a clue. She just treats me like I’m your brother”. Finn smiled, hearing his now rarely-used nickname.
One day, it was a Sunday, Roly had been over for lunch. Mum had cooked a big roast dinner, and then appeared carrying a large peach flan. Without asking, she served Roly a big slice, and then turned to her son. “Flan, do you want some of this Finn?” Her mixing of the name and the word was even funnier, because she didn’t notice she had said it. The boys laughed so hard, they almost choked. When they explained it to her, Roxanne had squealed with laughter too. After everyone had calmed down, Roly had pointed at Finn, declaring, “From now on, that’s your name. Flan”.
Finishing the last dregs of his own drink, Finn burped loudly, before replying. He had been considering the right response. No point giving Roly the wrong idea, but a little encouragement might serve to keep him interested. Keep him coming round. No harm done.
“Yeah I reckon she really likes you. Naturally she’s going to act like you’re the same as me. But I’ve noticed her looking at you”. He saw the awkward grin spread over Roly’s face, and went with the clincher.
“I reckon she likes you more than even she knows. Certain of it”.
Things never go quite as they should do they!
Nicely done. Reading onward…….
🙂
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They never have for me, that’s for sure. 🙂
Best wishes, Pete.
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Nice Pete. One of the things I love about you’re writing is the way you develop your characters. Whether they’re teens, middle-aged, or elderly, they come across perfectly developed.
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Thanks, Kim. That’s a lovely thing to say. 🙂
Best wishes, Pete.
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A theme I seem to explore in my writing – but the other way round. And I went to a private school so things happened.
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My own childhood and teenage years often manage to ‘infiltrate’ my fictional stories too, Roland.
I saw on your site that you went to a very famous and prestigious private school. But as my own time at a London comprehensive was some of the best years of my life, I don’t envy you in the least. 🙂
Best wishes, Pete.
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I hated Eton and was glad to go somewhere smaller and better when I was asked to leave.
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If you were ‘asked to leave’, then you have my respect for that, Roland. 🙂
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Boys. Let’s hope they get through this “stage” unscathed.
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‘Unscathed’ seems unlikely, somehow. 🙂
It is one of ‘my stories’, after all…
Best wishes,Pete.
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I know, unscathed it won’t be. That’s what makes your stories so good. Best to you, Pete.
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You got into Finns mind. Now I hope it all turns out ok for him as it could all too easily go wrong.
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I have found that life has a tendency to go wrong, Eddy mate.
(Virus hanging on, still got the bloody cough!)
Best wishes, Pete.
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I’m hoping that as it is set in fairly recent times then the world will be a little bit more tolerant.
I’m going to start delving into herbal remedies for you Pete, as it doesn’t look like modern medicine has the answer.
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I think I have to wait it out. Julie got it back again yesterday! Local speculation is that it is exacerbated by the warm weather, sparking off early hay fever symptoms which drag it out.
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Great post 🙂 I do not know how accurate this is, but the themes of this part of the story almost play out like a coming of age version of My Beautiful Laundrette and I mean that as a compliment 🙂 Anyway, keep up the great work as always 🙂
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Thanks for the comparison, John. I get that, and appreciate it. This will take a very different direction to that film though. 🙂
Best wishes, Pete.
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I agree to Cindy, and i am very interested in whats going on. Michael
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I’m pleased to hear that I have your interest, Michael. 🙂
Best wishes, Pete.
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Oh yes, Pete! I am always interested in reading stories.with a twist.
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It may not have a twist this time. 🙂 🙂
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😳 Shoced!😉
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with a K
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And then one day, having been bitten by the acting bug, he starred in a remake, “The Finn-Flan Man,” wherein he made his living defrauding people in the southern United States… And older moviegoers, not expecting the new R-rated material, unanimously exclaimed, “Great Scott!”
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That’s a sweet film connection, David! 🙂 🙂
Best wishes, Pete.
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Very nice today, Pete. My heart already aches for Flan. His secret, the neediness, the feelings of being different–you really nailed it.
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Thanks, Cindy. That’s much appreciated. 🙂
Best wishes, Pete. x
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The innocence of youth.
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Looking back now, GP, I often reflect on just how quickly that innocence vanished. 🙂
Best wishes, Pete.
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Yes, I remember mom’s advice, “Enjoy your childhood, it goes by so fast.” But did I listen? We both know the answer to that.
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We want to grow up so bad, but when we get there we realise it is not a street paved with gold. 🙂
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What a let down it turned out to be!
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I’m impressed you can remember that far back! 😀 Seriously, excellent in depth characters here Pete.
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Thanks, FR. Some events from my youth. Some fleeting memories. recollections of conversations, and quiet times too. I am putting all of that into these characters, in the hope that it works. 🙂
Best wishes, Pete.
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Wonderful! Reminded me of years ago when my sons friend kept impressing me with his extraordinary manners and behavior (my guy was a little more mischievous) One day I was talking to the boys mom and she started telling me how amazing my son was, helpful, polite, offering to do dishes. I was a little confused – he was a good kid but no that good! When I mentioned to her that her son was actually the best behaved child ever she she replied “WHAT?” I knew something was up. When I finally got to the bottom of it I found out they had a bet who could impress the other ones mother more to make the other one look bad. Boys can be so weird and you’ve captured that so well. Really enjoyed reading this!
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Glad you got that sense from this, exactly what I was hoping for. Of course, I was a 13 year-old boy once, so I had a head start on this story. 🙂
Best wishes, Pete.
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LOL So you know weird then.
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The complexities of my teenage years drove me half-crazy. 🙂
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