Date: Thu, 17 Jan 2008 07:35:55 EST
From: Djedoric58@aol.com
Subject: THE BULL SINGER CHAPTER THREE

			THE BULL SINGER
			By DJ

			CHAPTER THREE


	Dad only had one bull now, and he hadn't been sold off with all the
others because he was Dad's favourite and more of a pet than a piece of the
farm. Bosun was getting on in years, and his temper had grown with
him. Normally he was left to graze at Top Field because it was small and
had a suitable fence in line with health and safety laws. He was one bull
you didn't see being led along with a leash attached to his nose ring. If
he got it into head to go anywhere, he just went. I always thought he had
been used as the model for the old saying 'like a bull in a china
shop'. But to the family he was a gentle old soul; when Dad had a mind to
sing to him.

	My generation was the only that had not continued the tradition of
singing to the bulls of Top and Lower Farms. No wonder Dad was disappointed
in my choice of career. With three spinster sisters in tow, and now me
declaring my lack of interest in the starting a family of my own, Dad saw
the demise of the Alton farming family. I had these thoughts running
through my mind as I entered the cottage to be hit by a barrage of noise,
from hammers to the whine of drills. I negotiated all the mess and tackle
one finds on a building site and reached the kitchen without tripping more
than once over the cables leading like snakes from room to room. Barry,
Dad's builder friend, was seated at an old pasting table, sipping tea from
a large tin mug, every inch the boss man complete with battered sandwich
tin.

	"How's it going, Barry?" I could hardly hear myself speak over the
din of a portable generator shaking itself silly in the back yard.

	"No problems as yet," Barry shouted back. "For an old house, it's
surprisingly dry. I didn't like the idea of drilling channels in stone
walls for the cables so I've created some new skirting boards and hidden
the cables behind them."

	"What colour?"

	"I've stained them dark to match the ceiling beams." He took me
into the ain lounge to have a look and I was most impressed with the
result. I glanced up at the thick beams running the whole width of the
room. One of his lads was up a ladder skimming the spaces between
them. "I'll do the job as cheaply as I can, but the work you need doing is
going to cost you."

	"Don't worry about the pennies, Barry, I have the pounds to
spend. I want a good job done, the same you'd do for Dad. By the way, have
seen a lad hanging about the place?"

	"You mean him from Top Farm? I saw him this morning, about ten
o'clock. Someone doesn't like him."

	I stared at Barry. "What do you mean?"

	"Bruises. Someone has given him pasting recently, probably school
kids fed up with his lip. My son is in the same class as him. Says he's
right little bastard when he gets going. Has no respect for he teachers or
his classmates."

	"It definitely not school kids, Barry. He was suspended a couple of
weeks ago." I had to look into this. I hurried up the lane as storm clouds
gathered above, and knew I should be down at Lower Farm, helping get the
livestock into shelter. I reached Top Farm and found yet another car parked
beside the Mercedes. A small figure sat huddled against the wind, on the
bottom step. Joey had no coat and his feet were bare. "Joey, what's wrong?"

	I started forward and Joey struggled to his feet, glaring at
me. "Stay way from me. I don't want you here."

	"I want to help."

	"Help? All you've done is made a load of trouble for me, you and
your big mouth."

	I saw the bruising on his face and neck and started forward again,
meaning to calm him down and check him for other injuries, but he fled
across the drive and vaulted the wooden fence into Bosun's field. I heard
Bosun bellow; I ran to the fence and saw him running like the wind, not
away from Bosun but towards him. Bosun will kill him, I thought, and I ran
down the lane to the nearest gap into the farm, ready to fling myself
between the boy and a raging bull. I heard Bosun bellow again and icy hands
clutched at my chest. I struggled through the hedge to where I could look
across Bosun's field, excepting to see a crumpled figure being tossed in
the air. Bosun was standing, quietly, in the middle of the field, and
leaning against him with his arms as far round the animal's neck as they
could reach, was Joey.

	 Astonished, I collapsed to my knees in the mud, and struggled to
get my breath back for breath.  Knowing he was safe, I made my way to Top
Farm, aware of my wet and muddied jeans sticking to my legs. It began to
rain hard as I reached the house and hammered on the door. I waited for
several minutes, the rain soaking through my jacket. At last I heard the
door being unlocked. It opened and I saw a stranger standing there. The
hairs on my neck prickled.

	"Yes? Can I help you?"

	I stared up at Frankenstein. "I need to speak with
Mrs. Street. It's about Joey."

	"Mrs. Street is not available right now," the giant's voice rumbled
in his chest. "And it's Mz. Street. Please come back tomorrow."

	"No chance, Buddy." I said, with more bravado than I
felt. "Someone's given Joey a beating and I want to know who. Was it you?"

	"No, sir, it was not. I would never harm that child." The man stood
calmly before me with his hands clasped in front of him. His face might
have been the ugliest I have ever seen, but he regarded me with the eyes of
a gentle giant. "I wish I knew who hurt him, sir. I would dearly love to
repay him, in kind, on Joseph's behalf."

I'm Mr. Alton's property agent; I'm also his son. May I come in?"

	"I don't know about that, sir. I have no authority to let anyone
into the house."

	"If that's the case, you have no authority to refuse me entrance
either. Like it or not, I'm coming in. Mz Street knows who I am."

	I thought at first that I would end up to the bottom of the steps,
but Frankenstein moved back and opened the door.  I walked into the house
and followed him into the lounge. I took a notebook and pen from my coat
pocket and made like I was inspecting the place, gazing at the ceiling, the
doors, the window frames, and scribbled a load of rubbish in the book. I
asked him if I could see the kitchen. He took me through and I did the same
there, noting the pristine worktops and double sink, and it felt so
strange, standing here in the house I had been born and brought up in, and
not being a part of it. I knew every part of it, the layout of the four
bedrooms and the attics above. I knew every creaking floorboard, like the
one that creaked above me now. "If Mz. Street isn't here, "I asked, "Who's
upstairs?"

	"I didn't say she wasn't here," Frankenstein rumbled. "I said she
is unavailable." His eyes were slowly losing their welcome. "Now, if you
don't mind, I have other things to do."

	"That's okay, I'll just wander round a bit. It isn't as if I don't
know the place." I pointed at the ceiling. "That bedroom used to be mine."

	"We have guests," Frankenstein said, as if he expected that
statement to answer all my queries. His eyes had lost their warmth all
together by now.

	"And you are?"

	"Benjamin Roach, sir. I have the honour of being a close friend of
her father, Mr. Elias Chambers." Frankenstein's face softened into a smile,
which made him look even uglier. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll leave you
to make your inspection."

	Five minutes later, I had finished looking around the ground floor;
having discovered several security cameras, hidden unless you were knew
what you were looking for. Having set up a security system for Billy and
the band, I had no trouble finding them. But why have hidden cameras in a
place like this? And who was Mr. Roly-Poly from a few weeks ago.  What else
did I find? Plenty.

	In the lounge I found evidence that a party had been held. Out in
the back I found the rubbish bin stuffed with empty bottles, and the
remnants of a feast. I knew Benjamin would be watching me so I took a good
look at the back of the building as an excuse for being in the back yard. I
saw a curtain move at one of the top windows and wrote busily in my
notebook. There were several outbuildings to check, and I searched for
anything of interest, like evidence of vehicles parked there over the last
few weeks. In a barn I found muddy tyre prints and an oil spill, and the
smell of petrol. Back in the house, I climbed the stairs and found Benjamin
waiting for me. Racking my brain for an excuse to look in the bedrooms, I
said, "I think you've got a bit of damp on the rear wall. I'll have to
check the windows from inside."

	Benjamin gave me a slight bow." As you wish, sir." To me, that
meant that whoever was in the house that he didn't want me to see, had
already made a quick exit while I was in the back yard. I looked in the
room I used to use and the aroma of an expensive perfume wafted under my
nose. I walked to the window and examined the frame. As luck would have it,
it was actually beginning to show signs of old age.

	"I thought so, Mr. Roach. It's time my father had the place
double-glazed. See this?" Benjamin came and stood beside me, looked at
where I was pointing. "It's only a small patch but it wouldn't take long
for that rot to spread. I'll take a quick look at the other windows, and
then I'll leave you in peace and arrange for my builder to call next week."

	I checked the other bedrooms, the only interesting one being Joey's
on the top floor. It was interesting because it was devoid of the kind of
clutter a normal teenager would collect. No football or pop star posters,
no personal items, and hardly any clothes. Those I saw were pretty worn and
ready for the bin. I saw one pair of school shoos and one pair of old
trainers.  But what disappointed me more than anything were the contents of
the box Joey used as a waste bin. The jewel cases of my CDs were in it, in
bits, with the covers ripped up, and my discs badly defaced and
unusable. By the bin was a smashed CD player.

	I brought my inspection to a swift close and left the house vowing
to make the kid replace the CDs next time I saw him. I looked over Bosun's
fence in search of the kid. He was nowhere to be seen. By the time I got
home, I was at boiling point. I told Dad and my aunts what I had found, and
about the kid and Bosun.
	All three looked amazed, and Dad said, "No one makes friends with
Bosun, never!"

	"Well, I don't know how it's happened, but Joey has."

	"You must be mistaken. Must be another boy you saw."

	"No, Dad, that kid I saw with his arms round Bosun was definitely
Joey."

	Dad shook his head. "Well I'll be damned!" He began to chuckle and
hid his face behind his newspaper.

	Aunt Mabel gave me a warning shake of her head, but that only made
me more curious. "What, Dad? You know something?"

	"No, it's nothing." Dad said, and muttered to himself, "Well, I
never!"

	I turned to appeal to Cissy and Mabs but they were already on their
feet and clearing the lunch things off the table.

	"So what do we do about him being beaten up?"

	Dad raised his head to look at me. "Is it bad?"

	"I think so."

	"Take me up there; I'll have a word with his mother."

	"You are going nowhere." Mabel snapped at him. "Not in your state
of health."

	"And what state of health is that?" Dad flung his paper to one side
and glared at her. "Only what you want it to be so you can keep me pinned
down like some old man in his death bed to suit your own pitiful
existence. No wonder Charlie Monks ditched you at the alter. He looked at
me and saw what you'd treat him like and got out when he could, you
miserable old spinster."

	There was a stunned silenced as my aunts and I stared at him, then
Mabel ran from the room with her apron held to her face.

	"Edward! How could you?" Cissy gasped, and hurried after her
sister.

	 "You didn't have to be so blunt, Dad," I said. "That was really
cruel."

	Dad picked up his paper and hid behind it once more. "She's needed
to be told for a long time. The sooner I move out of here, the sooner I'll
be on my feet."

	"Where would you live?" As soon as I said those words I knew I was
in trouble.

	"You've got a big house, I can come and live with you."

	"It wouldn't be as simple as that."

	Dad's head jerked up and his eyes bored into me. "You let all your
friends live there. What's the difference?"

	"It's not that, Dad, it's...well I wouldn't want you to be
embarrassed."

	"Embarrassed? Why should I be embarrassed?"

	"My friends are gay, Dad."

	"So?"

	I started feeling hot round the cheeks. "I let them use my house in
the winter so they can unwind and relax, and sort of be themselves while
they work on their next tour program. I wouldn't want you to see things
that might upset you. And they would feel just as embarrassed for you."

	"D'ya think I don't know what gays do? D'ya think I didn't see all
those gadgets and stuff in your bathroom?" I went deep crimson as I
remembered the polished chrome enema hose attached to the bidet, and the
various pots and jars of lubricants and lotions. Dad suddenly grinned at
me, and then started laughing.  He glanced towards the kitchen where Cissy
was trying to console her sister, and leaned over the table to whisper,
"Why d'ya think you're an old child, ya' daft bake? I were right happy in
that house of yours. I'm just wondering when you'll be inviting me to go
back there."

	Shocked by Dad's confession, I began to laugh with him, and I
remembered how easily he had settled in with the band. "So you guessed the
band are gay?"

	"I don't think all of them are, are they? I guessed the war chief
isn't. Nice lot though, I'd love to meet them again some time. Who knows,
I'm still not too old to find myself a toy boy some time. Now that would
have your Aunt Mabel in a tizzy."

	"And me." I shook my head in amazement. "You old rogue, you kept
that from me well enough. I never would have guessed."

	"Oh, it happened long ago, lad, before you were even born."

	"When you were in the navy?"

	"That's right."

	"Why didn't you say something while we were at the house?"

	"Well, I didn't know if your band knew about Billy and you. And I
didn't' want to embarrass you in front of them, but...shush." Dad jerked
his head towards the kitchen. His two sisters came out, each wiping their
eyes on pieces of kitchen towel. He looked up at Mabel and reached out a
hand to her. "I'm sorry, Sis, I was out of order."

	"So you were," Mabel sniffed, and tried to resume her starchy
look. "When you see that...that city bimbo, you tell her from me, we don't
want her here if she can't care for her lad any better. Her and her men
friends, polluting the air with their fancy cars. Her with her fancy
clothes and four inch heels, and that boy walking around in rags."

	"It looks like he doesn't get much to eat either." I remarked.

	"In that case," Cissy said, "perhaps we could have him down here a
time or two."

	"I know he likes your sandwiches," I said with a grin.

	Aunt Mabel sniffed. "I'll think about it."


	The net day, I drove Dad up to Top Farm where I knocked on the door
while he stood at the bottom of the steps with Major. There wasn't much
point him struggling up the steps if his wasn't going to be admitted. When
the door opened, it was the boy we saw first; he quickly drew his thin
bomber jacket closed over a torn shirt. He came out onto the top step and
stared down at Dad, who nodded to him and said, "I've come to see your
mother, and I'm not leaving here till I do. Is she in?"

	Joey glanced at me before he nodded and went back inside. Telling
Major to stay where he was, I helped Dad up the steps and he stood there,
leaning on his stick and panting for breath. Joey came back and held the
door open for Dad and I to step into the hall. Joey showed him into the
lounge, closed the door after him and came to me. "Can we talk?"

	I followed him outside and we walked down the steps and across the
gravel to Bosun's fence. He leaned his folded arms along the top of it with
Major sitting at his feet and leaning against his legs, whining for
attention. He watched Bosun cropping contentedly on the last of the summer
grass. I studied him carefully. The bruises had faded to a light yellowy
green, and his lip was no longer swollen, but he still looked rough and
unwashed.

	"Why did you destroy my CDs.?" I asked.

	"It wasn't me, but don't worry, I'll buy new copies for you. I hid
the Billy Junior one so that's one's okay." He turned to me with eyes
alight with curiosity. "I read the credits. Is that really you playing sax
on those tracks?"

	"Yes."

	"You're in his band?"

	"Yes. Do you like Billy Junior?"

	"Wow, yes! You really know him? I don't suppose you could get his
signature for me?"

	"I'm afraid not, Joey." I felt choke up as I added, "He died a few
weeks ago."

	Joey's face fell. "Oh, man! I am sorry. What will happen to his
band?"

	"We'll still carry on, if we can find a drummer good enough to take
his place. The band was playing as a cover band long before they met
Billy. Now, about those CDs; if you didn't destroy them, who did?"

	Joey went back to watching Bosun. "I can't tell you."

	"It wasn't Mr. Roach was it?"

	"Benny? No way; he's a big teddy bear. Granddad's chauffeur
wouldn't hurt a fly."

	"Why would anyone want to break them?"

	"To warn me."

	"Warn you about what?"

	Joey turned to fix me with a look of hate. "If you must know,
there's only one entertainer in this family; my mother. She didn't know
about my dancing till you blew things wide open with your big mouth. She
destroyed them, and my player, to punish me. Satisfied now?" He made to go
back to the house when the door opened and Dad came out on his mother's
arm. He turned back to the fence, his face working with anger and hurt.

	I went to help Dad down the steps and watched Mz. Street glare at
her son before going back inside and slamming the door. Dad signalled that
he wanted to talk to the boy. I walked him to the fence and he took up the
same pose as Joey. "Nice old bull, isn't he? He's called Bosun."

	"I know." Joey replied. "Your herdsman introduced me to him."

	"I hear you've made friends with him. There's not a lot can say
that. He's a rumm'n' is old Bosun. He likes to be sung to, he does. I'm
known as the bull singer round these parts. Any farmer got a stroppy bull,
they send for Farmer Alton. Can you sing?"

	"Yes."

	"Interested? My son isn't."

	 "I might be."

	"Come to tea tomorrow."

	"Okay."

	"And wash your hair."

	On the way home I asked Dad why he had talked to Joey about bull
singing. Dad stared at me and said, "Well you're not interested, and never
will be, I suppose. It might keep him out of trouble."

					* * *