During World war II, the English suffered many shortages. Rationing of food and luxuries was severe, leading to much black marketeering. Imported goods in particular, were in short supply. Tobacco, sugar, tea and so forth. Sex was also in short supply, with most young men sent to fight the enemy, leaving sex-starved wives and girl friends at home.
Johnnie grew up during the war years.
Herbert Johnson and his wife Emily, owned the local newsagent and sweet shop. From being fourteen years old, Johnnie earned his spending money by delivering papers in the early morning, the afternoon after school and on Sunday mornings. Being wartime, the newspapers were only a few pages so many could be packed into one paper bag and Johnnie would leave home at quarter to six in the morning, returning at eight o'clock after delivering two rounds, in time for a wash, a slice of bread and jam, before shouting 'Tara mum' up the staircase as he left for school.
As soon as he got back home at half past four in the afternoon he took a further round of papers - sometimes two if another paper-boy hadn't turned up. He was paid 7/6 a week for three paper rounds and a Sunday round. He kept 2/6, giving the other 5/- to his mother to help out with the housekeeping expenses. By this time the three elder brothers and sisters had left home. Two were in the armed forces whilst the eldest sister had married and was living in a small house a mile away.
Mr Johnson was unfit for the armed forces but was a warden in the local ARP. This involved being on duty in the boiler room beneath the infants school. Johnnie would keep him company where Mr Johnson taught him to play chess over pint mugs of strong sweet tea. The heat from the boiler kept the basement cosy with the constant acrid smell of the burning coke in the background.
When Johnnie was eighteen going on nineteen it was arranged that Mr and Mrs Johnson would take their usual separate holidays. The couple who usually helped on these occasions were not able to cover for them this year so they decided to ask Johnnie if he would be willing. It was during the school holidays and they would pay him two pounds ten shillings each week. For this, he would help to mark up the morning papers and help behind the counter.
There were two morning paper rounds to deliver and two afternoon rounds. He would have to be at the shop by six in the morning until six in the evening with the afternoons off. Johnnie already knew most of the regular customers to whom he was allowed to sell cigarettes. Non regulars who asked for cigarettes were told that they'd run out of stock.
'There might be some coming in tomorrow' they were told.
When the wholesaler called with their supply they'd try to persuade him to let them have a few more packets of the popular brands. Woodbines and Capstan full-strength. They might be allowed a few extra if they were prepared to take some of the less popular brands. Turkish and Balkan varieties perhaps!
Johnnie's parents had no objections to him helping out the Johnsons and, besides, they would be in St Annes themselves for the second week. And so it was agreed. On the Friday before Mrs Johnson and Graham left for their week on the south coast Mr Johnson suggested to Johnnie that he should sleep at the shop to avoid waking his family at five in the morning.
There was Graham's bed, but it would be more convenient all round if Johnnie shared Mr Johnson's bed. So this was also agreed. They spent cosy evenings in front of the fire playing chess or other board game until the time came for the evening news and bed. Mr Johnson wasn't a drinker, allowing himself a night cap on some evenings. Towards the end of the week, Mr Johnson had drunk rather more whisky than usual and had given Johnnie two glasses of red wine.
As they clambered into bed, for some reason he couldn't explain, Mr Johnson decided that Johnnie should be given some advice about sex. Johnnie didn't know why, either, but he was told in a voice which was a little slurred, that although self abuse was sinful it wasn't as terrible as molesting girls or raping women for gratification, which was worse by far.
'If you feel the urge, as I'm sure you do being a young healthy lad, then a cold bath or a good long walk can help to expel the Devil's temptation. There are times, though, when you just have to give in to him for your own peace of mind. I suppose you feel the need every week or so and I'm sure God will forgive you if you are repentant.'
As he lay there on his back, sinking in to the soft mattress, Johnnie thought himself some sort of freak, feeling the need to masturbate daily - sometimes more than once in a day - rather than every week or so. But he grunted acknowledgment of the awareness. He was glad the light was out and Mr Johnson couldn't see his deep blushes.
'And as you get older, you'll find the urge still comes upon you, but perhaps not quite as often. Even when you're married, there are times when you need to satisfy yourself. It's a personal thing. But don't forget what we are taught by the Old Testament - that it's the women who are the temptresses and we can still thwart the Devil by not giving in to them.'
Johnnie became aware of Mr Johnson's arm movement and in dawned on him with acute embarrassment that he was quietly and deliberately stroking his prick. After a brief silence broken only by Mr Johnson's breathing, he was asked
'Don't tell me if you don't want, but I wonder if you've ever held another man's penis?'
Johnnie's mind was racing but he told himself that if Mr Johnson thought him adult enough to be asked the question, he was adult enough to answer, particularly with the courage the wine had given. However, he wasn't sufficiently experienced in adulthood to realise the hidden implication in the question. Besides, Mr Johnson was too much under the influence of the whiskies he'd drunk.
'Well, when I was a bit younger I suppose. Once or twice. With my mate.'
'Not with an older man?'
So Johnnie recounted the story of the stranger in the cinema. The stranger had come to sit in the next seat to him near the front of the cinema one Saturday afternoon. This seemed odd to Johnnie because, the cinema was sparsely attended, there were plenty of seats. As the main film had got under way, whilst he peered up at the silver screen, the stranger took hold of Johnnie's hand and placed it in his lap.
The stranger's flies were open, Johnnie's hand being firmly laid on the stiff penis sticking out from his trousers. Johnnie glanced down out of the corner of his eyes without moving his head, but the stranger had draped his raincoat over his lap. The hand wrapped Johnnie's fingers round the shaft before moving it up and down.
At first, Johnnie wasn't sure what was happening. When the penny dropped, he didn't know what else to do other than pretend that nothing was happening. It wasn't very long before the stranger put Johnnie's hand over the top of the stiff shaft to feel a gush of warm liquid flood his fingers and palm. After a few moments of stillness, the stranger released Johnnie's hand sliding his own hand over Johnnie's lap to begin fumbling with his trouser flies.
He decided that this was the time to get up and go. He did.
During the telling of the story, Mr Johnson had taken hold of Johnnie's right hand, repeating the action of the stranger in the cinema.
'Here we go again!' thought Johnnie still in a befuddled state with the alcohol. 'Oh well!' he shrugged mentally and he continued to recount the end of the tale.
Mr Johnson had turned back the bedclothes in the dark, opening his pyjamas jacket. As Johnnie reached the end of his story, Mr Johnson started to intone 'The Lord is my shepherd'. When got to the bit about 'rod and staff they comfort me' his bottom left the mattress as he squirted his offering over his ample belly.
Johnnie could see the vague picture in the dark and became suddenly sober. He was deeply embarrassed. As Mr Johnson took a handkerchief from his pyjamas jacket to dry himself, Johnnie turned onto his right side, comforting his own hard erection as he closed his eyes.
The next morning his head was throbbing and there was very little conversation passed between them as they prepared the paper rounds. After breakfast Johnnie felt better. Mr Johnson said that they had perhaps drunk rather more then was good for them and had perhaps behaved in a way which they would not have done had they been sober. But he had asked the Lord's forgiveness and hoped he had Johnnie's, and that the matter was closed never to be mentioned again - nor even remembered.
Emily Johnson was a tall, heavy-hipped, watchful woman of few words. When she did speak, her voice was soft but firm. She took no nonsense from any of her customers who had long ago stopped trying to ask her for goods on credit.
'Our policy has always been and will always continue to be cash with goods' she would tell them, 'but there's no harm in asking; providing you don't ask a second time.'
She had a large pallid face with a straight, well-proportioned imposing nose with watchful brown eyes which would often gaze at you without any expression as though trying to bury into your thoughts. It was certainly not possible to tell from her expression what she was thinking.
Her mouth was of generous size with full, though strangely colourless lips and her jaw was heavy. She rarely smiled, and was never known to laugh, perhaps to hide her large, irregular, teeth, though more likely because she saw little to smile or laugh about. But when she did manage a smile it was usually a sad one, though occasionally a real happy smile would light up her face with an unexpected radiance which suggested that perhaps she was once an eager, happy girl.
A photograph of her wedding, which took pride of place on the sideboard in the living room, showed the bride and groom with the new Mrs Johnson, all in white, in one of her happier moment. But now, her greying mahogany hair was combed back into a bun with unruly wisps escaping the arrangement. Her back was straight and her bosom, which had the appearance of a misshapen cushion stuffed inside her dress, was well hidden behind the inevitable flowered apron over an old woollen skirt, cotton blouse and dark green, home-knitted cardigan.
She reminded Johnnie of one of those stern ladies he saw occasionally in the cartoons of Punch addressing a small insignificant-looking customer across the counter.
'Chocolate? Cigarettes? Don't you know there's a war on!'
Johnnie had no idea of her age guessing she must be about the same age as his mother.
The week following her holiday with their son, Graham, it became Mr Johnson's turn to have a week's holiday on the south coast, in the sun. Johnnie was to continue helping in the shop in a general way, making up paper rounds early in the morning, delivering two rounds morning and afternoon, and dusting and cleaning the shop when not serving customers.
The day came for Mr Johnson and Graham to leave with suitcases and a camera - a pride and joy of Mr Johnson's - and to take a taxi (a rare treat with the petrol shortage) to the railway station. Mrs Johnson and Johnnie waved them off until the taxi was lost in the distance.
'Time for a cup of tea before the afternoon papers arrive' said Mrs Johnson as they returned into the shop and locked the door behind them.
They went into the little side-kitchen behind the shop counter, separated from it by a curtain, where Mrs Johnson put the electric kettle on, put two spoons of tea-leaves into the tea-pot and cut a small slice from a fruit loaf, scraping a little butter over it. After the kettle had boiled and the tea had brewed, they sat in the living room, in front of the low fire, with their tea and cake.
Mrs Johnson brought up the question of sleeping arrangements.
'Unless your mother has any objections, you can sleep here this week as well. It'll save disturbing your family at home, getting up so early in the morning. If she has any worries, ask her to come and see me about them so that I can put her mind at rest.'
Johnnie said it seemed a good idea. With his own parents being away, he wouldn't have to worry about hearing the alarm clock.
'Right!' she said, 'I suggest you have a good bath at home after we've shut up for the night and come back when you're ready after you've had your tea.'
