Christmas At Leo's - Memoirs Of A Houseboy (16 page)

I fought him all the way, but still ended up bare-arsed over his knee with my wrists pinned behind my back and my legs trapped under his right leg. My mouth was still free though. I used it to good effect, yelling defiance, determined not to submit to him. I B-bombed him: he was a brutal bastard, a bloody beast, a bully, and a big pig.

The line left by the cane served as a kind of equator for his hand. At first he spanked the mound of my buttocks just above it and my thighs just below it, but when my resistance continued, he aimed straight for it. I roared blue bloody murder as his hand branded rapid hellfire slaps on my tenderised sit spot. The pain was unbearable. I submitted and stopped fighting him, sobs tearing from my throat.

He delivered a final blow to my beleaguered buttocks and released his hold on me. I slid from his lap, crouching in a snotty, sobbing heap at his feet for a moment before struggling to my knees and trying to pull up my underwear. They were twisted around my lower thighs. I was shaking so much and was so blinded by tears I couldn’t untangle them.

Grasping the back of my t-shirt, Shane rose to his feet, hoisting me up with him. He untwisted my boxers and pulled them up over my blazing backside, followed by my jeans. He then locked his arms around me. I wanted to resist, but my energy and temper were spent. I put my arms around him, bunching the back of his cotton sweater with my hands, weeping into his chest.

I finally collected myself enough to speak or at least mumble. “How could you do that? In front of Leo, and with Mike here too.”

“I gave you fair warning. I said I’d punish you immediately if you spoke a word out of turn. Speaking to Leo the way you spoke to him was well out of turn, as was the way you spoke to me in the car. I won’t put up with you disrespecting me. I certainly won’t put up with you disrespecting and abusing Leo in his own home. You started looking for an excuse to attack the moment you walked through the door. Your behaviour was utterly disgraceful. I’ve never been so ashamed of you.”

“I can’t stay, not now. I can’t face Leo, or Mike, he’ll have heard. It’s too embarrassing.”

“Leo and Mike will think nothing of it.” He rubbed his hand over my hair. “Except you got what you deserved, and you did.” He pushed me away from his body. “You’re staying and you’re going to behave. If necessary I’ll borrow a puppy training collar and leash from Leo to keep you to heel. I’ll make you sit on the floor for the entire holiday, like a cur at its master’s feet.”

“I don’t like you.” I wiped a hand across my wet face. “I don’t know why I stay with you. You’re always cruel to me.”

“If cruel is insisting you take care of your long-term health, then I’m guilty as charged. As for staying, you do it from choice. There are no prisoners in this relationship. I don’t care if you like me or not. I grew out of playground mentality a long time ago.”

“I don’t believe you have any nice feelings for me, none at all, not like and especially not love.”

“You’re not always likeable, and that’s the honest truth, especially when you’re not getting your own way. The trouble with your generation is that you’ve been led to believe you’re entitled to instant gratification on every level and you’re hard done by if you don’t get it. You’re not. Now shut up.” He stabbed a finger. “There’s more going on with you than not being able to have a drink, though I think some of your new anger on that score is because you want to use booze to block out whatever else is bothering you. I don’t mind you being angry, Gilli. It’s okay to be angry, as long as you express it in the right way. Lashing out at others is not the right way. It isn’t acceptable. Are you ready to talk like an adult rather than act out like a spiteful child?”

“The trouble with your generation is you always think there’s something to be talked about, when there isn’t.”

“I’ll take that as a no then.” He sighed, pushing a hand through his thick hair. “Christ, boy, you wear me out. You wear everyone out. Life with you is like a cryptic crossword puzzle.” He put his hands on my shoulders. “Something has happened. I can see you’re hurting and I don’t mean your arse, or your pride. You’re clearly not willing or able to talk about it yet, so here’s the deal. You’re going to put everything out of your mind and concentrate on the moment. No thinking back, no thinking forward. Your only concern over this holiday is to please me. If I see you scowl or display resentment in any way, you’re in trouble. Displease or shame me with your behaviour and I will discipline you. No leeway.” He turned me towards the door of the ensuite. “Go and wash your face, tidy yourself up. I’m going to get the cases.”

I washed my face in the bathroom and then returned to the bedroom. It was a spacious, beautiful room enhanced by thoughtful touches relating to the season. The writing desk in the window alcove had a large bowl of fresh fruit, nuts and sweets set upon it. The fireplace mantel was decorated with a lush frosted pinecone swag twinkling with tiny white lights. I suspected it had been put there for my benefit rather than Dick and Shane’s. A miniature fibre optic Christmas tree sparkled on the hearth.

I felt a pang of guilty regret for the way I’d gone for Leo’s jugular. Shane was right. I’d been on the look out for an excuse to attack. I lashed out at Leo because I was jealous of him, jealous of his past and present relationship with Shane, jealous of his wealth, his beautiful house, his self-ease and confidence. He was a man. I was a prat.

Shane arrived with the cases. I went to help him, taking one from him and placing it on the bed, opening it to unpack it. He stopped me.

“Leave it. I’ll put everything away. I’ve got another task for you.”

“What task?”

“Lines.”

Oh joy. I was set for wrist ache as well as arse ache. I tried to stop a scowl from breaking out on my fair mush.

Walking over to the writing desk he opened the drawer and extracted a sheaf of notepaper and a pen. He wrote something and then motioned me over. Pulling out the chair, he tapped the paper.

“Sit down and copy that. Keep copying it until I give you leave to stop.”

I lowered my stinging bottom onto the chair, reading the words he’d written:
I will not use Daddy, Leo, or anyone else as a wall to punch out my bad temper on
. I tilted my head to look at him. “Does ‘anyone else’ include Jak?”

He didn’t smile. “It means everyone who comes into this house over the next few days. I’m serious, boy. If I hear you snap, snarl or snipe at anyone, especially Leo. I’ll punish you on the spot. Leo is not your personal scapegoat. I’m sick of you using him as such. You’re out of rope in his regard. If you’re anything less than civil to him I’ll tan your backside in front of him again and then I’ll invite him to tan it. I mean it. I’ll present you to him to discipline as he sees fit.”

The very thought made heat creep over my body from top to toe. Picking up the pen I began writing.

Shane changed his stained top and then moved around the room, opening cupboards and drawers, putting our things away. He’s not a man for living out of suitcases. He likes to have everything neatly hung and housed, even if he’s only staying at a place overnight. By the time he’d done, I’d covered several sides of paper. He came over to the desk, looking over my shoulder.

“Finish that sentence and then stop. You can do another batch later, perhaps before bed.”

Oh lucky me. Keeping my face straight and my mouth shut I did as told. Pushing back the chair I stood up, glad to take the pressure off my backside. I slipped both hands down the back of my jeans, intending to massage my sore buttocks. I didn’t get the chance.

“No rubbing,” he barked. “Keep your hands off your rump and leave that sting where I put it. It will serve to remind you of my authority, or do you need a further demonstration?”

“No, Daddy.” I hastened to remove my hands from my person.

“We’re going to join the others downstairs now. I need a strong coffee.”

“I’d rather stay here, please, may I?” I gave him a pleading look. “I’ll watch telly or read. You can say I’ve got a headache.”

He raised a warning finger. “Who’s in charge, Gilli?”

“You are.”

“What did I say we were going to do?”

“Join the others.”

“I want to start seeing some willingness from you, instead of wilfulness. I want you to accept the way things are without trying to change them to the way you want them to be. Am I being plain enough?”

“Yes, Daddy.” I managed to say the words in a respectful tone without sounding as surly as I felt.

“I’ll be keeping a close eye on you. Step out of line with so much as a catty comment and I will punish you in front of the offended party. You might not be looking forward to Christmas for whatever reason, Gilli, but other people are. They want to relax and enjoy the occasion. They want a peaceful ambience, not a tension loaded atmosphere. It isn’t fair to spoil things for others just because you’re feeling out of sorts.”

“You’d be better off if I wasn’t around.”

“Undoubtedly, but you are around, so shut it.” Holding my elbow, he steered me out of the bedroom.

Chapter Six - Stuffing

I tried to linger in the hall, on the pretext of admiring the gorgeous Christmas tree and the other festive touches, such as the bowls of glittering potpourri scented with oils of Frankincense and Myrrh. Shane wouldn’t allow it.

“You have to face them sometime. You may as well get it over with.”

“Are my eyes red, do I look like I’ve been crying?” I fiddled with a glass bauble on the tree, seeing a distorted view of my face reflected in its ice-blue surface.

“It doesn’t matter if your eyes are red or not. Stop fannying about. The only folk in the house are Leo, Mike and Dick. They know you’ve been punished. It’s no big deal.”

To my relief, there was no sign of Leo. Dick and Mike were the only ones in the conservatory. Even so, I felt my face colour up as I walked in with Shane. I didn’t know where to look. Mike spoke before Dick had a chance to. Standing up, he held out his arms, booming. “Here he is. Come here, you bad lad, give your uncle Mike a hug for Christmas.”

His cheery jokiness was exactly what I needed to get over my embarrassment. It was better than him trying to pretend he hadn’t heard me getting an arse trouncing. I went over to him and he enveloped me in a bear hug. “Never mind, Gil. If you ever get sick of being a houseboy you can always take up a teaching post.”

“Teaching what?”

He laughed and gave me a wink. “Tantrums to two year olds. That was some strop you flung, a personal best I’d say. World class.”

“Very funny, Mike.” I dug him in the ribs and pulled away from him.

“You walked into that one, honey.”

I looked across at Dick. He’d been tuning his guitar when I’d walked in, but he’d set it aside. He held out his hands. I went to him. Taking his hands, I leaned in to kiss him. “Sorry for carrying on, Dick.”

He searched my face. “Are you feeling better?”

Shane answered on my behalf. “He’s fine, Richard. Where is Leo?”

“In the kitchen.”

“I don’t suppose there’s any coffee left?” Shane flicked his finger at the coffee pot standing on a table.”

“There is, but it will be lukewarm by now. I’ll make some fresh.” Mike reached for the pot.

“Sit down, Mike. Gilli will make it. He knows how I like it.”

The last person in the world I wanted to see was Leo, and that’s exactly why Shane was telling me to make the coffee. It was on the tip of my tongue to say that Dick also knew how he liked his coffee, but I didn’t dare. The houseboy was on probation and any breaking of the terms of it would bring unpleasant repercussions. I picked up the coffee pot and made my way to the kitchen.

Leo was standing at the central workstation in his vast kitchen. There was a row of featherless corpses laid out on the butcher’s block in front of him, a goose, a chicken, a duck and a pheasant.

“Looks like a crime scene against poultry. Have you called the CSI division of the RSPCA to investigate?”

My quip didn’t raise so much as a polite smile.

He fixed me with a cool, steady look. “Is there a reason for you being in my kitchen?”

“Shane wants coffee.”

“Then make it. I’m busy. You know where the machine is. The filters and coffee are in the cupboard above it.”

“You’re supposed to keep coffee in the fridge.”

“No, you are not. Cold dries out the coffee and kills the flavour. It’s best kept in an airtight tin.”

“It says store in the fridge on the back of the packs.”

“Then the packs are wrong, or you’re buying the wrong packs filled with an inferior blend.”

I made a mental note to look up the facts on fresh coffee storage. I set the coffee maker going, and then stood watching Leo. He chopped the wing tips and leg bone ends off the birds, chucking them in a large stainless steel basin. I felt moved to question. “What’s with all the fowl? What are you going to do with them?”

“Bone them and stuff one inside the other to make a four bird roast for dinner tomorrow.” He turned the goose breast side down and ran his knife down its back, splitting it. It looked gruesome.