Educating Harry

"Thirty eight," gurgled Susan to herself as she tumbled into the turn, then, "thirty nine," a few seconds later, as she turned for the fortieth and last lap of the pool. Susan stopped at the wall panting for breath, she always liked to go flat out for the last three or four laps of her work out.

She stood for a few moments breathing deeply, before suddenly becoming aware of a pair of hands clapping behind her. "Maria, my goodness, you scared me to death, where did you spring from?"

Maria laughed, "I assumed you were here because your car was, but you didn't answer the door bell, so I guessed you were swimming. I let myself in with that key you lent me a couple of weeks back. I've been watching you for almost ten minutes. You put on quite a show. I didn't know you swam nude."

"Only in my own pool," laughed Susan, "When no-one is supposed to be watching. Now pass me that housecoat," she added, as she pulled herself from the water.

"When did you get back from Coffs Harbour?"

"Last night," replied Maria, "Fairly late, so I thought I would call in this morning, to catch up. As you can see, I haven't been idle, coffee?" she suggested, pouring one out, not remembering when Susan had ever refused. "And," she added, "Some hot scones which I bought on the way over."

"How did your Coffs Harbour trip go?"

"Oh ok, not particularly interesting, just routine, more to the point, what did you make of the famous Joe Callaghan last Thursday evening."

"He was ok," responded Susan unconvincingly, "Well, really rather nice I thought... but hey, just a second, why did you say famous?"

"Hmmm," responded Maria, "you really don't know do you, I had better explain. Joe Callaghan Susan, is reckoned by most Rugby fans as probably the greatest half back to play for Australia for the past forty years."

Maria couldn't have predicted Susan's reaction; she started to giggle, then a little more, until finally she was shaking with laughter. "Oh what an idiot I was," she sniggered, regaining control a little, "I asked him what had happened to his finger and he told me it was bitten off in a Rugby game. "Then I told him... you'll never guess," she giggled, "I told him that Rugby was a nasty violent game"

"You didn't," this time it was Maria who dissolved into laughter. "Susan, you really should read the back pages of the newspaper some times. Joe Callaghan's finger is one of the legends of Australian Rugby. Let me tell you what happened." "When Joe was eighteen or nineteen, he took a gap year before going to Uni. He travelled in Europe, and during the winter played Rugby in France for one of the top clubs. Any way, in a particular match, one of the opposition was a very tough international who had played sixty times for England, and who had a terrible reputation for violent foul play. Joe, who was younger fitter and much more skilful, made this guy look stupid, One thing led to another and when Joe was caught up in a loose maul the guy bit the end off Joe's finger."

"Oh how horrible," protested Susan.

"But that wasn't the end of it, the referee an Irishman, hadn't seen who had done it, so it looked as though the English guy had gotten away with it, because he was not even sent off. It was half time shortly afterwards, Joe was patched up, and despite what his coach said, he insisted on going back on. At the very first scrum in the second half Joe lined up the biter and hit him: just once, but so hard the guy lost five teeth to one punch. By good luck or bad, depending on your point of view, the match was being televised and the pictures were all over the media the next day. Basically, the story was, '180 pound Aussie battler belts 260 pound English thug,' he became an Aussie sporting hero overnight."

"Didn't he get into trouble?"

"No, not much, well he was sent off for the rest of that match, but he was lucky."

"Why?"

"Firstly, the referee being Irish, saw it as a sort of natural justice, and he issued a pretty soft report, and secondly, the French Rugby Union has never really regarded thumping an Englishman as a terrible offence, so he pretty much got away with it."

"I still think it was awful," said Susan censoriously, "but did you say he played for Australia."

"Yes he did, and within three years he was the main reason New Zealand were defeated in two series, which as you can imagine, for me as a New Zealander, where Rugby is almost the national religion, that made him a real villain. But quite suddenly, after only twenty or so internationals, he was finished before he was twenty four. Severe cruciate ligament injury," Maria explained, "It can take at least a year or more to recover from that, if at all, so he decided that he would call it a day."

"Oh the poor man," sympathised Susan, "But at least it saved him getting hurt again."

Maria laughed again, "Susan,you just don't get it, if Rugby players, or any footballers for that matter, worried about getting hurt, the game would not exist. They are not even allowed by the rules to wear any protective gear at all, so they know they are going to get hurt practically every game."

"Well I sort of knew that, but I still don't know how they can actually enjoy it."

"Never mind," responded Maria, shaking her head, "But remind me next winter, and maybe we will go down to Sydney and see one of the international matches at Homebush; more to the point," she continued, "I wonder how soon it will be before you hear from him again," then noticing a slight smile from Susan, "You haven't... not already? He really is keen isn't he."

"He emailed me, to remind me of his promise to deliver anything to Alice in Chicago that she might want, and he also told me he would see me again when he got back from overseas. That irritated me a bit, seemed a bit pushy I thought, taking me for granted. He could have asked."

"Guys like Joe tend not to ask Susan, they go for what they want, and deal with the consequences."

"Yes I know, but for the time being I shall play it cool, I am just not the sort of person who commits emotionally at the drop of a hat, and I find it a bit disconcerting. "Anyway," Susan continued, "That's enough of me, what are you up to today?"

"Not a lot, a few odds and ends of shopping which I missed doing by being away, then this afternoon, Harry is going to start to clear all those old bricks and slates for me. The pallets were dropped off a day or two ago, and he told me that he would begin late this afternoon, so I had better be there when he starts."

"Just remember," grinned Susan, "not to start any silly squabbles, as I remember the last time we spoke, you told me how you felt the urge to put him in his place."

"I did I suppose," responded Maria, "But isn't that pretty much your response to Joe, you are trying to keep him in his place, or at least at bay."

"Mmmm maybe," acknowledged Susan looking thoughtful, "But I also remember something Alice told me, she said that Harry had an uncanny ability to know what she, and I suppose any woman wanted, almost before she did. That, if it is true would make him a dangerous proposition, perhaps you might be a little out of your depth," she challenged.

Maria snorted indecorously, "Don't be so ridiculous, no kid of his age, no matter how smart he might be is... hang on Susan, I'm not going to fall for your teasing, no," she decided smiling, "I shall be perfectly proper and deal exactly as I should with the young man."

"However," Maria conceded to herself as she drove away from Susan's a few minutes later, "What I decide is perfectly proper, is entirely up to me."

At about four thirty that afternoon, Harry's Ute lurched into Maria's driveway, she was waiting for him, desultorily pruning bushes next to her swimming pool.

"Hi," he greeted her.

"How do you manage to get that old heap registered, it's falling apart" Maria enquired genially,

"The old ute? replied Harry, not taking the slightest offence. "The body is a bit battered, but mechanically she's as sound as a bell. Good enough for what I want, carries everything, and is very reliable... quite handy for rescuing damsels in distress too, when they pass out," he added grinning.

"Ok," laughed Maria, "Now we had better have a look see, before you get started"

"Jump in then," suggested Harry and when Maria had done so, they made their way slowly down the track, next to which and near the old house, Billy's truck driver had left a load of steel box pallets.

"What happened to all the bushes and brambles?" said Harry rather surprised. "I had expected to spend the first couple of days clearing them."

"Goats," replied Maria cryptically, then she explained, "I got Mrs Williams from Culgong to send down a small flock of her goats, only a day or so after you first looked at the job. Within a week, they had eaten almost every bush, thorn and blade of grass there was in the paddock.

"Well, they have certainly made the job a bit simpler," said Harry, "And they also seem to have exposed quite a lot more bricks than I had calculated"

Harry started to unload his tools, so Maria decided to leave him to it. "I might pop back later to see how you are getting on."

Harry nodded, and Maria turned to walk back up the steep slope to her house.

Harry finished pulling his barrow off the ute and glanced up for a moment.

"Wow, she looks good," he thought appreciatively, as he watched Maria's impossibly long legs and magnificent ass undulate slowly and strongly up the hill.

Maria was deliberately putting on a show, and walked a little slower for maximum effect, just before she reached the trees at the top of the slope Maria looked back, and was a little surprised to see that Harry was watching her. She gave the briefest of waves and turned again towards the house, but this time with a huge smile on her face. "Well well," she smirked, pleased with herself, "So Harry Salt is not completely immune after all."

Harry was thinking along similar lines. "At least she wasn't looking for an argument today, and she is a pretty spectacular, but was that for me, she can't have me on her agenda.... can she? Don't be a fool," he admonished himself, "there's no chance." But however dismissive he might be, that small thought kept recurring in Harry's mind, "Would she, nah, no chance... but maybe, just maybe she might."

He then buckled down to work. Starting from the point furthest away from the house and nearest the track ,he picked up all the loose bricks first. The sun was still warm in the late afternoon, and although he was wearing only shorts, a singlet, boots, and a floppy hat, he was soon warm and covered in dust and sweat. Harry, however, quite liked this sort of repetitive work. He did not like training, or going to the gym to keep fit, but if he could do some manual labour which had a result, he reasoned that if it achieved the same end, it somehow made the repetitiveness worthwhile.

It also gave him time to himself, and time to think He thought for a while about Trixie and what had motivated her, but couldn't figure her out any more than he had been able to immediately after their time together. In his mind, Harry compared her for a moment with Maria, "Now, she is different, she talks a lot," he said to himself, "But it's still clear as mud why she seems to change her mood so much from one day to the next. Still she seems ok today, wonder if it will last."

He worked on steadily, only stopping occasionally, to take a drink from one of the two big bottles of water he had brought with him. After about two hours he had filled two pallet boxes and started a third. 'I'll give it another ten minutes' he thought, and set to. He didn't notice at first, that Maria, as she had said she would, had returned, and sat on the wall next to the old house. She just sat there watching him, and he decided after a brief smile of acknowledgement to finish the section he had allocated himself.

"Mmmm," Maria said to herself, "He doesn't have any idea how sexy he looks, all covered in dust and sweat, and I'll bet he doesn't have a clue what I'm thinking."

Harry stopped quite suddenly and walked over to her, "That's it for today, if it's ok with you, that is how I would like to do it, a couple of hours each day, late in the afternoon.

"Fine," Maria concurred, "I brought you a drink, though I see you have some of your own."

"Thanks," said Harry, "but you can't have too much on a warm day," and he accepted her offer.

"You've made good progress," commented Maria.

"Thanks to the goats," grinned Harry, "That was a really good idea, saved a lot of time, it's just going to be a long steady slog, I reckon it will take three to four weeks, maybe a bit less."

Harry then changed the subject, "I was wondering when I was working, do you have any plans, what you might do with the old house."

"Nothing definite," replied Maria, "It will depend on what sort of condition it is in, I haven't even got inside yet, the windows and doors all being welded shut with that steel work."

"I could fix that for you if you like," volunteered Harry, "it would only take an hour or so to get the steel off that small window with an angle grinder. I would need to borrow Fred's portable generator."

"Could you? It's about time the old place was opened up."

"Alright then, I'll bring the genny along, say on Wednesday or Thursday."

Over the next two days Harry followed the same routine, he turned up late in the afternoon, worked for a couple of hours, maybe a little more, Maria would come down for a chat later on, and then he went home.

But the routine was not quite the same, the banter between them grew; "You're looking good today," said Harry, eyeing the close fitting top and shorts Maria wore.

"I feel good," responded Maria pushing out her ample chest, and running one hand slowly through her long hair.

The banter started to turn to blatant flirtation.

"But good for what?"

"Hmm, I don't know, maybe good for anything."

"Anything, now that would have to be good."

"You don't look too bad yourself, at least, for a guy who is covered from head to foot in dirt and dust."

'And that,' thought Harry is the problem, he was already half sure that Maria might respond if he made the first move, but being rather more naïve than he realised, he thought that the dirt and dust would put her right off. If only Harry could have read Maria's mind.

"God, I've laid myself on a plate for him, when is he going to do something? I wonder if he has any idea how wet I am, just thinking about it. But I am not going to risk being knocked back, and made a fool of." Which last point, was the exact same reason why Harry was holding back.

So the moment passed, each seeking, even longing for an opportunity, but not knowing quite how to create it.

Harry reminded Maria, "Tomorrow I am bringing the generator and will have a crack at getting into the old house. I'm going to get in through that small second level window, as that has the least steel to cut. If you are at home, could you come down an hour or so sooner than usual, as I will be working from a ladder, and it would be handy if you could pass tools up to me... would save a lot of time," he explained.

"Fine, I'll be here, entirely at your command."

Over dinner that evening, Harry told his aunt about his plan to get into the old house. "Oh I wish I could be there, to see what you find."

"Probably nothing," laughed Harry, "Why should there be anything there at all?"

"Well," explained his Aunt, "Mr Lalor said all those years ago that welding the steel shutters and doors were to keep thieves out, but although I never thought about it much at the time, that it just doesn't make sense. Fifty years ago country people didn't lock their houses, let alone a work shop or anything like that. Plenty of people today in Hawksworth still don't lock up very much; most people took Mr Lalor at his word, but there is a much more rational explanation," Aunt Diane paused for affect.

"Go on," laughed Harry, "I'll play the sucker, what are we going to find?"

"A tractor," replied his Aunt firmly, "a fifty five year old tractor"

Harry hooted, "Come off it, half the farms in the district have an old tractor in a shed somewhere."

"Yes, but it may be a very particular one, in fact if I am right, I will be able to tell you the exact make, year of manufacture, and possibly the serial number."

"Wanna bet on it?" challenged Harry.

Aunt Diane thought for a moment, "Alright," she said, "I'll write down on a piece of paper exactly what I think you'll find. There you are," she said, suiting the action to her word, "I'll put it behind the mantle clock and you can check it after you have got in."

"How about a stake then?" asked Harry.

"Not sure," replied his aunt, I'll think about it, and you can do the same. Only rule is that the loser can't refuse any legal and reasonable request.

"Done," said Harry emphatically, "And as you are going to lose, I'm going to spend all day thinking up something really good."

As Harry's day turned out, he was so busy that there was little time to think of anything before he arrived at Maria's. She had not yet returned and as it was unusually hot for October he used the hose next to her swimming pool to cool off. Just as he had thoroughly soaked himself, Maria's car drew into the driveway. She grinned to see him standing there in just a singlet and shorts, soaked to the skin.

"You don't need to use the hose, there's a shower attached to the equipment shed. I use it because it's a salt water pool and I don't like the salt to stay on my skin ... but," she added reflectively, "At least with the hose I can admire the wet shirt display"

"I suspect Maria," suggested Harry, eying the hose and looking at her closely up and down, "In fact I'm pretty certain that you'd look far better in a wet T shirt than me."

"Well, you're not about to find out whilst I've got this outfit on," she said, making for the house, "It cost far too much." She then added "I'll see you down at the old house in about twenty minutes, I have to change first.'

"That's fine," responded Harry, "It will take me at least that long to get all my gear ready."

Within a few minutes Harry had unloaded the ladders and tools, and had started the generator. Maria did not keep him waiting; she arrived as soon as he was ready to start. "You have certainly dressed for the part," commented Harry. Maria had changed into some old boots, a pair of shorts, and a sleeveless shirt at least one size too small which revealed a lot more than it covered. She was also crowned with a battered and improbably large straw hat to keep out the sun, which continued to beat down in the late afternoon.

"This," said Harry "is what we are going to try. This particular window is covered with a piece of thick sheet steel, but it appears to be secured by only four bolts. All the other windows and doors have many more bolts, and the steel is much heavier, so I would prefer to do them from the inside. What we do when the steel is off depends on what we find behind it. I'll need you to generally fetch and carry tools and suchlike. "

"Ok," responded Maria.

Harry started on the lower bolts the screech and sparks of the angle grinder soon indicating that he was cutting metal. In only a minute or so the first bolt was broken, and moved the ladder to get at the second. That too did not last long, and Harry descended to take a breather. The third bolt took much longer as it was awkward to get at, but eventually it snapped. "We will have to be careful with this last one, so stand well back as the steel plate will probably fall off quite suddenly." That proved not to be the case as the steel remained stubbornly in place.

"I think a bit of corrosion is holding it, pass me up that big tyre lever." Harry was right and with a little more leverage the steel suddenly gave way, falling with a heavy clang to the ground.