Learning With Louise

I was never really a kid to ask permission. I just went ahead and did stuff. And I hung out with people, people of whom I knew my mother would probably not always approve.

But then, one day, I did ask permission. To this day, I'm not sure that I know why. I just did.

I wanted to go to The Cape, a rocky promontory on which thousands of seabirds nested. As a kid, I was fascinated by birds. I was especially fascinated by seabirds; the way in which the smaller ones could zip along just inches above the surface of the sea; and the way the larger ones could ride the thermals for hours or days at a time.

It was only about six miles from our place to The Cape: four miles or so by bike, and then another couple of miles by foot along the seashore. And I really wanted to go there.

It was while we were having breakfast (cornflakes with stewed Golden Queen peaches, followed by toast with homemade marmalade) that I first asked my mother if I could go and check out the seabirds. It was the school holidays. I was nine. My mother said that it was too far for me to go on my own. Perhaps when I was older.

After breakfast, I persuaded Allan Thomas, a kid who lived just up the road, that he too wanted to go to The Cape. 'I won't be on my own,' I told my mother. 'I'll have Allan with me.'

'He's even younger than you are,' she said. The answer was still no.

By about nine-thirty, I had convinced Chris Rossiter -- Dozy Rossiter -- that he also wanted to go to The Cape. 'Chris is older than me,' I told my mother. 'He's twelve.'

'He may be twelve, but he's also daft,' she said. She didn't say that the answer was still no, but I knew that it was.

And then, an hour or so later, I was kicking a ball up against the wall of the garden shed when Louise from next door stuck her head over the fence. Louise was definitely older than me. She was at high school. I suppose she was probably about fourteen, maybe even fifteen at the time. But, despite our age difference, she was always pretty friendly towards me.

'What are you up to, Mikey?' she asked.

'Not much.' And then I had a thought: maybe Louise would like to go to The Cape.

'The Cape? Yeah. We could do that,' she said.

'Allan and Chris want to go too,' I told her.

Louise laughed. 'I charge for babysitting,' she said.

As I say, Louise was always friendly towards me, but not so much towards some of the other kids.

'Yeah. Well, we've probably missed the tide now anyway,' I said. 'Maybe another day.'

At lunch, Mother said that she had seen me talking to Louise. 'Why don't you see if she wants to go to The Cape with you?'

'She has stuff she needs to do,' I said.

'What sort of stuff?'

'Just girl's stuff. You know.'

The winter after that, my parents bought a small agricultural contracting business and we moved out to the country. I didn't see Louise for another ten years. And, when I did, I almost didn't recognise her.

It was the week before Christmas. A couple of the guys I had been to school with invited me to the Young Farmers' Christmas party which was being held at the local pub. That was where I was introduced to the village's new primary school teacher.

'Michael, meet the village's newest teacher. Louise Griffin.'

'Louise? Can it be?' I said.

She looked at me and frowned slightly. And then her frown slowly dissolved into a broad smile. 'Mikey. Mikey Redburn. Gosh, you've grown.'

'Time does that to a lad,' I told her. 'Well, time and porridge. And a few other things.'

She laughed. And then she said: 'But of course. Green Man. Up near the main road. That's your parents' business, isn't it?'

'It is.'

'And are you ...?' And Louise mimed driving something big.

'Working with Dad? No. At the moment, I'm studying for a degree in engineering.'

'Ah. So still building stuff then?'

'We'll see,' I said. 'But, yes, something in construction does have a certain appeal.'

When I had been nine and Louise had been fourteen or fifteen, Louise had been taller than me. But now it was the other way around. We chatted for a while, and then the band started to play and so we danced. And, later, when the band was packing up and everyone was heading for the door, I asked Louise where she was living and how she was getting home. She said that she lived just on the other side of the village and she was walking. 'Didn't want to drink and drive,' she said. 'Set a bad example for the kids. Not that any of the kids I teach are old enough to drive. But you can imagine the field day that the local paper would have. "Local teacher sets bad example".' And she laughed.

'Maybe I can walk with you,' I said.

'Yeah. That would be nice. You can protect me from the ghosts of Christmas past.'

We grabbed our coats.

I think it was Louise who slipped her arm through mine. I'm almost certain that it wasn't the other way around. I'm pretty sure that I wouldn't have been so bold. But I wasn't complaining. Meeting Louise at the party had been like meeting someone for the first time and yet still knowing more than a little about them -- or at least knowing more than a little about an earlier version of them.

'Do your parents still live in the big house?' I asked as we set off through the village.

'They both died,' Louise said.

'Oh, I'm sorry to hear that.'

Louise nodded. 'They were both unwell for some time,' she said. 'I think the end was probably a blessing.'

I knew what she meant. My grandmother had camped at death's door for more than ten years. It hadn't been much fun for her, living her later life in twenty-minute snatches between trips to the hospital and bouts of severe nausea.

'So ... a school teacher,' I said. 'I must admit I'm a little surprised. I don't remember you being much of a fan of little kids.'

Louise laughed. 'I'm not sure that I am even now,' she said. 'I started out doing English and Sociology. Not sure why. And then I decided that teaching might be a more reliable meal ticket. And I'm happy to say that teaching at a small country school is turning out to be quite good fun. It's certainly not like teaching at a large inner-city school. We don't even have graffiti.'

We walked on for a while and then Louise announced 'We're here'.

We had reached the other side of the village, and we were standing outside a small, but beautifully-proportioned, Georgian house. 'This is your place? Nice,' I said.

'Well ... it's my friend Anne's place, anyway. I just live here. Anne's an interior designer,' Louise said. 'She specialises in high-end hotels. Spends a lot of time overseas. She doesn't like leaving the house unoccupied.' Louise shrugged her shoulders. 'It works out well for both of us.'

'Nice,' I said again.

'Are you coming in? Anne's away at the moment. Austria. She's not back until Christmas Eve.'

'Umm ... OK,' I said.

Louise unlocked the first of two locks on the front door, and then she unlocked the second. Then she pushed open the door and reached for a light switch. It was then that she took a deep breath. 'Oh, no!' she said.

I was just about to say: 'Oh, no, what?' when I saw what she had seen. The rooms off either side of the entry hall looked as if they had each hosted a no-holds-barred wrestling tournament for a troupe of angry gorillas. And then there was the sound of a door slamming coming from further inside the house. I silently indicated for Louise to remain where she was while I cautiously set forth to investigate. Goodness knows why. I may have been well over six foot and as fit as a buck rat, but I was still going to be no match for a troupe of angry gorillas. A couple of pints of best bitter had clearly clouded my judgement.

Nevertheless, I made my way through the house and arrived at the open back door just in time to see a white van screaming away down the lane that ran past the end of the small garden. Once at the end of the lane, the van turned right, up towards the main road.

'Gone,' I said, when I returned to Louise. 'I suppose we should call the police.'

Louise looked at her watch. 'Are they going to be able to do anything at this hour?' she said.

'It's worth a try. They are supposed to be a 24-7 business,' I said. 'And the first thing the insurance guys are going to ask for is a crime incident number -- or whatever it's called. I assume you are insured.'

Louise nodded. 'I'm pretty sure that Anne is. Some of this stuff is quite valuable.'

'OK. Well, you'd better call the police. They'll want names and addresses and stuff. I'll start taking some photographs. Dad had a whole lot of expensive tools nicked from the workshop, and that was the other thing the insurance company asked: Do you have any photographs?'

Louise took out her phone and started dialling. And then she suddenly stopped. 'The alarm wasn't on, was it?' she said.

'The alarm?'

'The burglar alarm.'

'Umm ... no.'

'I definitely set it when I left. I remember quite clearly.'

'Where's the ...?' I made little stabbing gestures with my finger.

'Behind that picture,' Louise said.

The picture that Louise was pointing at was a framed painting of a young woman's head in profile. It was in a modern style, but it was still representational. If you met the woman in the street, you would still have known that it was her. Louise walked over to it and 'opened' it. It was as though she was opening a cupboard door. 'According to this, it's still set,' she said, frowning at the panel set into the wall behind the picture.

'Probably best not to touch it then,' I said. 'Let's see what the cops have to say.'

The cops arrived about half an hour later. Louise knew one of them. Marcy. She was a local. And her daughter attended the local school. 'Not the tidiest toerags, were they?' Marcy said.

'Is there an alarm?' the other cop asked.

Louise pointed back to the hinged painting. 'There is. And, according to the display, it's still on.'

The cop frowned. But then he nodded. 'Zentinall?'

'Umm ....' Louise went and looked at the panel again. 'Yes. Zentinall.'

'Third one this week,' the cop said.

'So ... these two rooms,' Marcy said. 'What about upstairs?'

'Haven't looked yet,' Louise said.

'Shall we go and take a bo-peep?'

Louise and Marcy went upstairs.

'And you saw a white van?' the other cop said. 'I don't suppose you happened to get an index number.'

'No. Sorry. It all happened a bit quickly. But I'm pretty sure that it was a Citroen -- if that helps.'

'Is it a van you've seen around here before?'

'I don't think so. But then I don't really live here anymore,' I said. 'I'm at uni. I'm just here visiting. Christmas with my parents. They own Green Man. Just up the road a bit.'

The cop nodded. 'Oh. Yeah. The harvester people.'

'Yeah. Agricultural contractors. Louise and I had just been to a bit of a party at The Eagle. Young Farmers' Club. Not that I'm a young farmer. A couple of guys I went to school with invited me. I had just walked Louise home. She unlocked the door and ....'

'And the back door was open?'

'It was,' I said.

'Any sign that it was forced?'

'Don't know. Didn't really look.'

The cop and I went to have a look. 'Yeah. That's it there,' the cop said, pointing to a mark on the edge of the door and a corresponding mark on the jamb. 'And there's the sensor, just there.' And he pointed up to the corner, near the ceiling. 'So the alarm should have tripped. I think we'll leave that to CID. Your ... umm ... lady friend seems a bit shaken,' he said. 'Perhaps a cup of tea.'

'Yeah. Good idea,' I said. And then I pointed to the back door. 'Do I need to try and find a locksmith?'

'Up to you,' the cop said. 'But I think you could leave it until the morning. Your visitors won't be coming back tonight. They already have whatever they came for.'

'Whatever they came for?'

'That'd be my guess. This has all the hallmarks of a shopping list burglary,' the cop said. 'They've been through the cupboards, the drawers. Moved stuff around. And they've left lots of stuff that an opportunist would have taken. No, I'd say they were looking for specific things. Probably already have a buyer.'

At least they (whoever 'they' were) didn't seem to have been upstairs.

'A list of what's missing would be useful,' the cop said. 'Not right now. But when you get a chance.'

And then the cop's phone rang. There had been a traffic incident up on the main road. 'Yeah. Show us as responding,' he said. 'I think we've done all we can here.'

When the cops had gone, I asked Louise is she wanted a cup of tea.

'Tea? Umm ... I think I need a brandy,' she said. 'Assuming the scumbags haven't nicked it.' They hadn't.

'Do you want ginger ale or something?' I said.

'Ice.' Louise got glasses and ice, and I poured a couple of stiff ones.

'What do we do with the alarm?' Louise asked.

'I'll get a photograph ... and then we can probably turn it off. The cop got a look at it. I think he knew more than he was saying.'

Louise unset the alarm while I checked all the ground floor windows. Then I closed the back door and jammed a kitchen chair under the door handle. It wouldn't stop someone who was determined to get it, but it would slow them down. And it would make a hell of a noise. They wouldn't be able to sneak in next time.

'I'd feel safer if we went upstairs,' Louise said. And so that's what we did.

Louise's bedroom was like something out of a hotel. But I suppose that's what you get when your landlady designs hotel interiors for a living. 'Nice,' I said. 'Very nice. Is it all right if I sit in one of these chairs? Or are they just for show?'

Louise laughed.

For the next half an hour, I did sit in one of the chairs, and Louise sat on the edge of the bed. And we sipped our brandy and talked about who, how, and why.'

'I wonder what would have happened if I had been here?' Louise said.

'They would probably have come back on some other occasion,' I said. 'You can't let Burglar Bill run your life. The cops said that it was probably a shopping list burglary.'

Louise nodded, and I told her a story I had once heard about a delivery guy from an auction house who cased customers' houses when he went to make deliveries and then passed the details on to a bunch of his thieving friends for a cut of the proceeds.

'But what about the alarm?' she said.

'Yours? The cops seemed to know the make. Perhaps someone has worked out a clever electronic gizmo. We had a chap come to talk to us about car security systems. Apparently, if you know the right people, and have the necessary dosh, you can get a do-daddy that will unlock and start even the most secure cars.'

'A do-daddy?'

'Technical term,' I said. 'That's why it takes four years to get an engineering degree. You have to learn a whole new language.'

Louise smiled, but I could see that she was still rather shaken by the evening's events.

'I suppose I should go,' I said. 'It's way past midnight. I should let you get some sleep.'

'Do you have to go?'

'Umm ... no. Not if you don't want me to.'

Louise drank the last of her brandy and put the glass down on the side table. Then she lay back on the bed. 'Come and lie here beside me,' she said. 'You can protect me.'

I laughed. But I kicked off my shoes and went and lay beside her. She reached out and took my hand and squeezed it. 'We never did get to go to The Cape,' she said.

I laughed again. 'You remember that too?' I said.

We must have lain there for ten or fifteen minutes, neither of us saying anything, and then I realised that Louise had fallen asleep. I thought about getting up, but I was worried about disturbing her. And then I fell asleep too. When I woke up, about half an hour later, Louise was awake.

'I thought I heard something,' she said. 'Outside. But it was probably just the fox.'

'There's a fox?'

'It goes 'round the bins.'

My mother had said that there was a fox. It was probably the same one. Foxes sometimes have quite wide territories.

'I'm cold,' Louise said. 'We should get under the duvet.'

Louise got off the bed and started to undress. When she was down to her bra and knickers, she turned back the duvet and got into the bed. 'Are you going to get undressed?' she said.

'Should I?'

'It'll be easier to get warm,' she said.

I laughed. 'You might have to explain to me how having fewer clothes makes it easier to get warm,' I told her. But I got undressed anyway.

And then, under the duvet, Louise snuggled up to me and everything sort of changed.

It began when Louise started kissing my neck. That went well beyond simply trying to warm up on a cold December night. And then when she placed her hand on my boxer shorts, immediately above my growing cock, that went well, well beyond. And my growing cock grew even more.

'Perhaps we should take off your shorts,' she said.

'You think so?'

'I do. But don't worry, we can take off my knickers too. Fair's fair.' And, even before she had freed my still-growing cock from its cottony confines, her knickers were gone. Then, when my shorts too had found their way to the floor beside the bed, Louise straddled me with her softly-furred muffin atop the underside of my cock and began to slide slowly up and down. 'Warming up?' she said.

I laughed. 'Warming up? If you're not careful, I may catch fire,' I told her.

And then she rode higher, so that the tip of my cock was bumping past her slippery entrance. I could imagine what might happen next. 'I ... umm ... don't have a condom,' I said.

'I think we'll be all right,' she said. 'I imagine that you are careful.'

'Careful?'

'Only girls who wash their hands?'

I laughed. 'So far, only girls in my dreams,' I said.

'Well, you can't get more careful than that, can you?'

And, suddenly, I was in.

It didn't feel the way that I had expected it to feel. It didn't feel anything like a hand around my cock -- mine or anyone else's. And it didn't feel anything like a mouth -- although my only experience of having a mouth on my cock had been when Lindy Marsh had put her lips on it. And that had just been for a few seconds really. But, no, being inside Louise just felt ... magic. Warm. Wet. Slippery. And tight yet loose. My only worry was how long I was going to be able to last.

'OK?' she said.

'Fuck yes.'

'It's good, isn't it?' Louise said, as though she was commenting on a slice of particularly well-made fruitcake. And then she sat up, her back straight, and, for the next three or four minutes, she rose and fell like a dressage champion on the trot. Up. And pause. And down. And pause. Up. And pause. And down. And pause.

At first, I was distracted -- by the novelty, I guess. I hadn't expected my first proper fuck to be with the girl on top. I thought that I would be on top. And I certainly hadn't expected the girl to pretend she was riding a horse. But then I started to think about what was happening. And that was a mistake. That was a big mistake. Well ... perhaps not a mistake. But it did take us around the bend and into the home straight. It was as if someone had thrown a switch, and I suddenly had an electric current running from the tip of my cock, all the way down my shaft, and back to my arsehole. Or was it starting from my arsehole and running in the other direction? And was I in any position to judge anyway?

'I don't think I can hang on,' I said. 'I think ... I think ... I'm ... gonna come.'

Louise just smiled and increased her jog to a canter. And then I did come. And it wasn't just a squirt or two. It felt as though someone somewhere had reached in and turned on a tap.

'Sorry,' I said, when my cock finally stopped pumping. 'I just .... It .... Well ....'

'Why are you sorry?' Louise said. 'That's what's supposed to happen. Now ... give me your finger.'

I gave her my hand and she placed my finger on her clit, which was now a bit like a slippery peanut. 'Oh, yes,' she said. 'Right there. But not too hard. Yes. Just like that. Just exactly like that. Oh, fucking yes.' And, shortly after, Louise came too.