Georgie 1-11

[Les Lea]

Glad you found it OK, I thought it might get lost in all the other newer stories.

Thanks for the comment ?

[wetdiaper55]

It is still a good story ,like you always write. Thank you for your great storys

[Les Lea]

Hi Wetdiaper55

Thanks for the lovely words, I'm glad you're enjoying it. Hope a few more are also doing so.

?

[Les Lea]

Part 8

 

Mrs Langford-Court, whose eight year old daughter, Felicity, I babysit owns a gallery in town. She displays local, as well as more established talent and, of course, despite my promise not to, I wanted her opinion on Georgie’s artwork. She thought the couple of still unframed paintings I showed her were very accomplished and asked me to leave them with her for further analysis. Maybe, she teased, she would be interested in exhibiting them at some point in the future, when her gallery “...wasn’t so busy”.

I was disappointed because it felt like a brush off and then I said something that I know I shouldn’t but wanted Georgie to be acknowledged for the incredible talent he was.

“What if I was to say this artwork is produced by a sixteen year old who has the mental age of a toddler?”

I could see she was intrigued and wanted to know more and I’m afraid, I was so keen on talking Georgie up, I forgot the promise I’d made.

It was strange because although I was doing all the talking, with the occasional “yes” and “hmm” from her, I could see her brain was elsewhere - no doubt planning publicity campaigns about her ‘finding and promoting’ a new genius.

“Is he autistic or something?” She enquired and I could see, despite her natural upper-class restraint, she was getting quite excited about the possibilities.

“Not that I know but he is ‘different’.”

“When can I meet this... exceptional artist?” She was no longer dismissive and things had become real.

“Erm, ummmm, emmm, I’m not sure...” I suddenly realised I’d overstepped the mark and didn’t know how to put the genie back in the bottle.

“Come on Melanie,” she said clutching the artwork closer to her chest, “surely it’s not a secret and I’m sure we can all earn something from a little venture.”

“I’ll have to ask.” She could see I was hesitant but now she was engaged didn’t like the sudden reticence.

“Well you do just that Melanie... and I expect to hear from you soon. I just hope this doesn’t interfere with your babysitting opportunities.” Although she was smiling I detected a slight threat that if this didn’t go as she hoped, there would be consequences.

I also realised that there would be consequences from Mrs Thompson because I’d betrayed her trust. God, I’d made such a mess and it’s was entirely my own stupid fault. Why couldn’t I leave well alone?

+

I must be mad. For the next couple of nights, once I’d put Georgie to bed, I hung around outside his room to see if I could hear him ‘talking’ to mother. I wasn’t sure what I expected to find out, and in many ways wasn’t sure there was anything to find out but my sweet boy said he chatted to his granny and I couldn’t ignore that ‘fact’. A ghost of mother would be just too much, but also, why wasn’t she coming to see me?

However, nothing.

By the third night I realised I was indeed mad and why had my head immediately fixated on mum being a ghost? I mean, that’s just stupid and yet I’d let myself be drawn to that as a possibility rather than examine what might be really happening - my poor boy misses his granny and dreams about her still being in his life.

In this initial folly and ill-conceived ‘action plan’ I did seriously think about moving house. However, and this was a very good point that I should have thought about before getting in touch with an Estate Agent, where the hell would we live when we had a fantastic home that was already paid for?

Once I’d come to that conclusion I felt a bit better but was quite annoyed at myself for going down that path. However, it had been useful in some ways. I was able to see how mum had influenced both my son and me. Because of the way she talked about him being a good little boy for his mummy and granny, those apron strings were tied tightly so he wouldn’t be straying far at all. Yes, she’d been quite an influence but maybe I was giving her too much credit (or accusing her) because perhaps Georgie is being Georgie and the way he is, is the way he is – simple, innocent and loving.

However, I asked him if he fancied moving house and living somewhere else but he just looked at me vacantly as if he didn’t understand the question. I’d keep him as amused as I could during the day but then, at various times in the afternoon, some of his friends would pop in and he’d play with them. Thankfully, all the kids that came I could trust to be friendly and keep Georgie interested. Although, in truth, he’d never had much of a problem keeping himself entertained. It was at these times (and when he was in bed) that I could catch up on the freelance accounting jobs.

Nevertheless, rather than the casual stuff, I was finding that I had to devote more time to the accounting and finances of the firm who wanted me on a more permanent basis. There was no doubt about it, I’d have to wind up the irregular side of things, which didn’t pay that well as there wasn’t as much of it around, and spend all my efforts towards full time work.

+

To begin with, when mum was around we’d managed and the extra money coming in from the freelance stuff helped pay some of the bills. Once mum died she left the house and a small legacy which meant we were getting by OK, as long as the casual stuff continued to the same extent. Unfortunately, that was slowly disappearing and the offer of part time work had come at the most opportune time. At one point I even thanked mum (in my prayers) as I was sure it was her that had guided me to their advert in the first place.

I’d placed an IN MEMORIAM announcement in the local paper after her passing and in the column next to it was an advert for - Part-time staff with accounting experience needed for family run business. It was as if it had all been meant to be and that mum was still part of my life guiding in some way.

The things you do and say without thinking only for it to turn around and bite you on the bum when something like Georgie’s possible night time visitations happens. I mean, I don’t believe in ghosts (or pixies for that matter) but when Melanie said what she said about Georgie’s declaration, I felt a weird cold shiver run down my spine. It was spooky and I could quite easily believe that ‘shiver’ meant something.

So for a couple of days I’d convinced myself that mum was making ghostly visits to my son and it was only once I actually sat down and rethought the situation, and my reaction to it, that I was able to make some sense of it.

Mum was always very supportive of her grandson. After the unbelievable trauma of his dad leaving and my incompetent way of dealing with it, a gentle approach to his rehabilitation seemed the best way to go. She didn’t want to rush him into anything and always praised him for any little social venture. Even telling him what a clever and wonderful boy he was for using his nappies. At the time it seemed sensible and even I found myself praising and accepting these small triumphs as positives that Georgie should be praised for.

Georgie had spent a great deal of his life where the two most important people in his life praised him for wearing and using his nappy, of course the boy was going to continue to do so. He thought (or thinks) he is doing precisely what we want.

Although at times it is quite exhausting - making sure he’s clean and dry, and, with constantly washing his nappies, it takes quite a bit of effort to keep him content and happy. The fact that he can, at sixteen, run through the house wearing only his protection and not feel in the least bit concerned, well it’s strangely heartening. I know it shouldn’t be but he looks so cute the way he is and what he wears just makes him look so unbelievably adorable.

I suppose I’m as much to blame as mum because I’ve just let it happen. I accept there’s been trauma on both sides but Georgie hasn’t so much as found himself, more he’s been created to fall in with an image I found acceptable after the nightmare of us being lied to and abandoned by my husband.

Perhaps my sweet, traumatised little boy saw how much kids in the nursery made his granny happy and simply fell in with that image. The fact he was then praised for it, maybe, made him cling to something he felt safe with... I just don’t know. I could still be trying to justify my part in all this OR I could be right all along and Georgie has been damaged so much he can only function at the level of a little boy.  

I’ll have to tell the Estate Agent that I’ve changed my mind and I’m not selling.  I’m sure that won’t go down well because the house is in a very desirable area. Oh well!

+

For the rest of the week I was pretty distracted. I wasn’t sure if Mrs Langford-Court actually found Georgie’s artwork worthy or if she was just seeing him as a ‘cause’ she could both make money from and appear to be a philanthropist. On top of that Pete was getting edgy as the end of term performance dates approached, which I don’t think was helped by my keeping him at a distance. No matter how hard I tried, whenever I was with him I was still thinking about Georgie. I saw Georgie everywhere. I don’t mean in his granny’s ghost coming to visit him type of way, he was just permanently in my head. Even when we were rehearsing for the play I’d occasionally get Pete’s character’s name wrong and say Georgie, much to the director’s annoyance.

As soon as I was in my bedroom, and with the portrait of me looking down, all I could think of was that cute little boy. A sixteen year old teenager, who wore a nappy and seemed completely happy, would fill my head and make me smile. He was so unlike anyone else I’d ever met or read about, unique, and just so wonderful to be with. Because of the way my body and mind reacted to him I think I was falling in love, or that’s what it felt like. I had no other explanation. I felt privileged to be part of his life, no matter how weird it was.

Of course, the other thing that had got my mind racing was the fact he said his granny visited every night. I wasn’t sure if I believed in ghosts or not but didn’t feel I could discuss this point with anyone other than Mrs Thompson, but then I’d have to mention the gallery and Mrs Langford-Court. I needed to speak to her before next Saturday if possible because I had too much going on and my head felt like it was about to explode.

I picked up my phone and dialled.

+

I was surprised to get the call from Melanie. She sounded a little agitated but asked if there was a chance we could meet up before her next sitting. I mentioned I’d be coming into town with Georgie to get him some new bits and bobs and suggested , if she could, that we’d meet up for lunch. She agreed.

At the mall she looked so much younger dressed in her school uniform, although still very much like a girl-in-charge and seemed genuinely pleased to see us both. As I hadn’t told him about the meeting Georgie was very excited to suddenly see her and gave her a huge hug - like he was greeting one of his best friends.  I saw she automatically patted his bottom as they hugged but I thought his shorts hid his padding quite well though I’m sure he wouldn’t be bothered anyway.

She told me she had a confession and that she’d done something I specifically asked her not to do. I was immediately worried that she’d exposed who she was babysitting for and that the entire estate would know who and where I was. I couldn’t stand the idea of bringing up all that gossip and those appalling accusations. But no, it was something about Georgie’s art. She said that because she was so impressed she’d taken it to have it appraised at a gallery. I know I gave her a dirty look and she was all contrite and full of apologies. That was until I said that I didn’t mind as long as it wasn’t that appalling Langford-Court woman. She’s such a stuck up bitch I couldn’t stand her... even when we were neighbours.

I could see her face drop and she admitted that, as she babysat her daughter (So, her and her husband finally found time for someone else in their lives did they?) she went to her.

“You didn’t say who the artist was?”

“Not by name but, I’m sorry to say, I did lay it on a bit that the artist was ‘special’”

She smiled at Georgie, who I was sure hadn’t followed much of what was said.  He’d got a colouring mat and seemed to be happy crayoning on that; much to the amusement of other diners.

Although he was dressed far more childishly than anyone else his age, because it was quite a warm day he wasn’t the only teenager wearing shorts, so wasn’t like a sore thumb. I suppose it was because I knew what he wore underneath and that made me a bit more ‘protective’?

“I’m really sorry but she’s pushing for a meeting and...”

“Well that isn’t going to happen. I’m afraid Melanie you’ve got yourself into this so you’ll have to find a way of getting out. All I can say is that if she asks, tell her that I know who she is and it’s a flat no because I can’t stand her because I think she is a stuck up bitch.”

She laughed out loud, which was nice. “That should certainly stop her asking.”

We both chortled at the idea of the possible look of shock on her face. I was behaving like a school kid myself. Georgie was grinning as well, I think pleased that we appeared to be enjoying our time together.

She then brought up the subject of ‘granny’s late night visits’ and I asked her if she believed in ghosts. She was unsure. I told her I didn’t but could see how dreams about his gran could quite easily be interpreted by a boy like Georgie to be actual visits. I told her I’d not seen nor heard anything that might suggest otherwise, other than mum’s striking portrait in the conservatory. I had to agree, her eyes did follow you around the room.

We laughed at our silliness but I saw Georgie take a black crayon and scribble out the fine piece of crayoning he’d done. He didn’t look happy.

I asked if he needed a change but he just shrugged and went to sitting in a mood, which was the complete opposite of how he’d been. Now neither of us could get even a smile out of him and he began to moan about wanting to go home.

Before I left she reminded me about her play and said she’d be unavailable certain days that week and hoped I’d be able to find someone else. I complimented her and said I’d find it difficult to replace her but that I appreciated the time she’d already given up for me and was only sorry I couldn’t come and bring Georgie along to see it.

We did a little bit of further small talk before Georgie’s grumpiness got the better of him and he began to sulk. I checked his nappy and it was soaked so I brought the proceedings to a close by finding a toilet to change him before we went home.

+

I was glad to get things off my chest. Mrs Thompson hadn’t been as annoyed as I thought she would and, although I pretended otherwise (not) I thought her comments about Mrs Langford-Court were spot on; having said that, she does pay well for me sitting her daughter, so I can have no complaints. However, it was a definite “no” about Georgie’s artwork so I would just have to tell her that the artist’s mother had refused any such meeting.

I was however a little perplexed at Georgie himself. He seemed happy and radiant (if I’m allowed to call him such) to begin with but with the mention of his granny’s ‘visits’ there was a sudden and dramatic change in his personality. I’d not seen him grumpy before so it was quite a shock. Try as I might I couldn’t nudge him from his silent and then moaning state. Even his mother seemed a bit baffled by it.

The thing is, when I first saw him and he smiled at me, I caught a glimpse of how it used to be when we were toddlers. I mean, even at sixteen he still looks like he did back then (or is it just me thinking that way?) even down to the nappy under his shorts. God he looked so damn cute and that cheerful greeting and hug was just what I needed.

So, although it was good to talk about my worries, the play and boyfriend situation, it also just confirmed how much I’d rather be changing Georgie’s nappies than doing any of that. His immature clothes, and it has to be said equally immature features, make me just want to protect and cherish him as much as his mother does.

“Oh god, do I want to mother him?”

I watched as his mother led him towards the toilet for what I assumed would be a nappy change and I felt a little cheated. I wanted to do that to my favourite person. However, as I walked away I felt a strange chill run down my back and I immediately knew I’d be seeing him again soon and all would be well. Although I had to admit, it was the weirdest sensation I’d ever experienced and for a moment felt relieved and quite faint at the same time.

+

After our lunch I returned to school and then, as we had further rehearsals spent more time with our theatre group. Pete was being all moody and his acting suffered as a result. The director noticed our lack of cohesion and took me to one side and asked if there was anything wrong. I said nothing I could think of, I wasn’t playing his little game, but I thought it was a little unprofessional.

However, her attitude was it was up to me to fix it and I baulked at that suggestion. I simply told her that I had other things going on in my life that weren’t centred around the play or the rest of the cast and reminded her that she’d asked me to play the part, I hadn’t auditioned.  

I was surprised at my antagonism because normally I’m the peacemaker but on this occasion I couldn’t be arsed with him for bringing his wounded persona into the rehearsal room and for Miss Hemsworth thinking it was my fault. I walked out and told her straight she should sort him out or get a replacement and I said out loud, “...for him or for me I don’t mind... you choose.”

I could hear the intake of breath from the rest of the cast but as I was through the door I felt a touch of relief. I’d never been like that with anyone before and, if I’m honest, I found it quite liberating not agreeing to anything for a quiet life. I liked this ‘new and improved’ me.

When I thought about it further it was something Mrs Thompson had said that made me react like I had. “You’re a very clever young woman so make sure you also want what he, or anyone else, wants.” That was the thing, all this other ‘stuff’ was keeping me away from Georgie so it wasn’t what I wanted... he was the one person I really wanted to be with.

+

...to be continued.

[maly]

I am really liking the continuation of this story. Thanks for coming back to it.

Maly.

[Les Lea]

My pleasure Maly and thanks for your continued support, I'm most grateful ?

[dondd]

I am with Maly on this one.  Thanks!

[Les Lea]

Lovely to hear, thank you.

[Les Lea]

Part 9

For someone who likes everybody and tries to get on with everyone, the flouncing out of rehearsal with a barbed comment was just so unlike the Melanie everyone knew. I mean, I didn’t know it at the time but in that moment I got a reputation of being a bitch.

Me a bitch! 

Apparently, Miss Hemsworth let it be known to all and sundry that I’d got into a strop and stormed out of the play leaving her to find a replacement at short notice. I’d let everyone down and should be ashamed of myself. I was relieved.

Having learned this the following day, the next time I saw Miss Hemsworth, I called her a deluded, no talent bitch and was happy to be free of her ill-conceived and badly written play. Actually, I didn’t. I’d calmed down a bit so I may have thought it but said nothing and kept my head down.

However, in that brief but intense exit from the play I’d found a different type of self-confidence that I hadn’t known I possessed. So, when there were a few comments and attitude from teachers, as well as other students I wasn’t prepared to put up with, I made it very clear not to mess with me because, if they thought I was a bitch now, just wait and see how much of a bitch I could be. That I did make clear.

However, my threatening words carried no threat as I wouldn’t have had the first clue where to exact any kind of revenge. Still, it had given me confidence that I wasn’t going to be at anyone’s beck and call.

When word trickled down to my family, to say they were shocked would be an understatement and mum set about trying to build bridges that I immediately burned down.

“This just isn’t like you sweetheart.” Mum couldn’t understand her Grade A daughter creating such waves. “Why have people turned against...”

“Look mum, people are stupid. They think they can do and say anything and I’ll go along with it because I’m nice. I’m not going to do things for other people just because they think I should. I’m nobody’s puppet.” I found myself agreeing even more with Mrs Thompson’s words of advice, which were once again swamping my thoughts.

Mum just didn’t get that I had other, more important, things in my life that I was prioritising. Mind you, although she knew about my babysitting, she had no idea about Mrs Thompson and Georgie or exactly who I was babysitting for.

To be honest, they had never questioned me about who it was that I travelled so far to babysit, they trusted me. However, I could see that things might change and I’d have to find a way of protecting the identity of Mrs Thompson and Georgie like she’d asked me to. I was sure that after all this time, the neighbours who still lived in the area must have by now forgotten about the Hardy’s but I couldn’t be sure and didn’t want that kind of scrutiny forced on the couple.

Meanwhile, dad had subtly asked if I was having ‘boy trouble’. I wondered how he knew but realised he meant Pete, not knowing about my obsession with Georgie. Phew, I was easily able to swat that one away.

I called Mrs Thompson up immediately and told her that my situation had changed and I could do this Saturday as planned and now the following Saturday if she hadn’t got anyone else yet. She seemed delighted at the fact and promised to pay for a taxi there and home afterwards. I was made up.

However, she did ask if I had a cold as I sounded a little different.

“No, just cleared my throat earlier.” I lied because I had no idea what she was talking about.

“OK love, see you around nine on Saturday... and thanks.”

+

The next thing to do was get the artwork back from the gallery. Mrs Langford-Court had kept them to ‘reappraise’ but now I had to tell her that there would be no meeting and the artwork was no longer available for exhibition.

I called in on my way home from school and she wasn’t happy with the news. It had also filtered down to her about my exit from the play and I suppose she thought I’d be a bit down about the entire thing and as a result could play me. At first she refused to return Georgie’s paintings and got quite clever about exhibiting this ‘mysterious’ new young artist.

However, I just held out my hand and said “Paintings now” and she moved into her office and returned looking threatening as if to tear them up.

“I’d think again lady,” I said in my best actressy voice. “Because if there’s so much as a crease on them... I will smash every single piece of ceramics and glass in this place.” I was standing next to a rather wonderful glazed ceramic vase, which had a price tag of £500 - I picked it up and rolled it in my hands.

I tried to look my most casual but threatening as if it would be nothing for me to do just what I implied and she immediately went into defence mode. Maybe I’m a better actress than I thought?

Mind you, I think she realised I wasn’t kidding and handed back my stuff unharmed.

“It’s bloody rubbish anyway,” she sneered. “Oh, and don’t bother coming to the house again I think we’ll find someone better for Felicity.” Again the stupid woman thought she had the upper hand.

“Thank God for that.” I smiled with as much contempt as I could muster. That would be a big dent in my finances but, I had more important clients... well, one. So I simply nodded and left with my artwork and breathed a sigh of relief that I was now free of another obligation and could focus on the one thing that mattered.

+

I didn’t ask Melanie why her circumstances had changed I was just so grateful that they had. I know I’m sounding a bit selfish but the relief of not having to find someone else quickly was a huge weight off my shoulders. Also, I noted that the school holidays were fast approaching and didn’t know if she’d found work to tide her over or if she’d be able to find more time for Georgie. Yes, I was being incredibly selfish.

Meanwhile, Georgie had thankfully snapped out of his temperamental phase from the mall and seemed to have slipped nicely back into being mummy’s sweet little boy. In fact, in some ways he seemed more content, and loving, if that’s possible.

At the mall the thought crossed my mind that he might have been getting a bit frustrated. I mean, he is sixteen and I wondered if perhaps he was experiencing feelings for Melanie. The quick way his mood changed had been a surprise and there had to have been some reason for it... and sadly for me that was the direction my mind went. Not only that, but if he was ‘excited’ with her being nearby and frustrated, then perhaps his little chastity cage was preventing him from doing what a normal sixteen year old boy’s willy does.

However, when I was changing him, there was no evidence in his nappy that was the case and made no protest about the little pink contraption wrapped around his sweet little genitals. So, I just cleaned him up, put him in a super thick nappy with extra padding and pulled up a pair of lovely cheerful blue plastic pants with his favourite doggies running all over them. He seemed to calm down almost immediately, so assumed the little sulk was all about him being wet.

Once ready he hugged me in his usual loving manner and slipped his dummy in but, as we were going to be walking through the mall, decided it might be better for him not to. Anyway, with one hand held in mine as we exited the place he shoved his other thumb between his lips so he could have had his dummy after all.

+

Collins and Sons, the firm that wants me more permanently, had recently expanded their business, buying up a couple of smaller firms and incorporating them in to their own. The MD, Teresa Pritchard, had taken me aside and told me that there was a job, a permanent job, that desperately needed filling. It was mine if I wanted it but they needed an answer a.s.a.p.

They knew I had a son that had ‘special needs’ so appreciated that I might need some time to organise things. However, the job had a huge salary increase and would easily pay for any extra care needed. I got the impression that I’d have to be let go if I couldn’t accept because they needed someone to be in the office and sorting finances out permanently.

I understood their predicament and was pleased that Teresa had explained that it was thanks to my financial know how that had made their business a growing success and they wanted me to be involved and be a part of that success. It was all very encouraging but... they needed a “Yes” or “No” pretty soon.

I wondered if I could talk Melanie into looking after Georgie during the school holidays that would give me time to find a more permanent solution though realised it was going to be a lot to ask a sixteen year old girl to commit to.

+

For the last couple of nights I’d had a most intriguing dream. Although Georgie had popped up in my thoughts and the occasional dream, this had been different because it felt so real. I was in their conservatory, looking around and scanning all the artwork around the walls. It was as if I was doing an inventory but in my head the words “Who’s such a clever and talented boy?” were echoing around. Eventually my eyes focused on Georgie who was standing at an easel, deep in concentration, dummy in mouth but I couldn’t see, from where I was observing, exactly what he was painting.

Try as I might to change position I just couldn’t, I was stuck. However, Georgie looked up at me and smiled behind his dummy “Hewo Gwanny, wiz I’ for ou.”

It was then I sort of understood I was looking at the room from the position of granny’s portrait on the conservatory wall, and he was talking to that.

I woke up startled and was further thrown into shock as my portrait suddenly looked like her. I blinked and rubbed my eyes, thankfully things were back to normal but I lay there shaking for a few moments before I could compose myself fully.

+

“Are you getting a cold dear?” Mum asked over breakfast.

Not that I knew but Mrs Thompson had mentioned it so perhaps I was.

“Maybe, the last few days have been... you know... difficult.” I offered by way of explanation. “Perhaps I’m just running a little low on energy or something...”

“Maybe love, but just look after yourself...”

“Sure.”

Mum offered various powders and potions from the medicine cabinet should things progress further. I just hoped, if I was getting something it didn’t stop me from looking after Georgie. I don’t think I could have coped if I’d had to cancel that particular bit of babysitting.

As it was, at school Sarah approached me and asked if I’d packed in babysitting as Mrs Langford-Court had asked her to look after Felicity. I told her that I’d had a bit of a run-in with the woman and so we mutually dissolved our arrangement.

“Oh, she said she’d fired you.” Sarah said with a hint of suspicion but also desperate for the real reason.

“Did she now? Well you’ll find out why if you take the job... so... good luck if you’re planning on accepting it.”

I left her with that thought as I couldn’t be bothered playing that stupid, double-barrelled, deluded woman’s game. I was better than her in just about every way. I didn’t need to feel superior, I was.

Where that thought suddenly sprang from I have no idea but I was definitely feeling a lot more assertive in myself. I must be maturing, perhaps that happens to girls when they reach sixteen?

#

In English Miss Hemsworth tried her best to ignore me but I just kept looking at her with the utmost contempt. I knew I wanted a reaction from her so I could lambast her in front of the class but she seemed more than usual on edge and fluffed her lines a few times as she read the lesson. Sitting in the corner was Pete with Abigail Trent, who I suppose had been drafted in to take my place. She was a lot plainer than me (and I’m not saying that to be a bitch) but I’d seen her audition and she was hopeless. She had nice hair though.

Anyway, none of that bothered me at all. I was out of it and I could concentrate on the other kids I babysat and look forward to the only one that really mattered come the weekend.

Thursday night and I had the most incredible dream that included Mrs Thompson, mum, dad and Georgie.

Mrs Thompson had offered me the job of ‘live in nanny’ to be permanently looking after Georgie. Mum and dad were furious once they found out who exactly it was I was working for and forbid me to have anything more to do with the family. However, the row didn’t end there. I refused to continue my studies and go on to University like me brother and sister had, and told them I wanted to work with children and this was an ideal opportunity.

They didn’t know of Georgie’s ‘problem’ but because of all the rumours and gossip surrounding the Hardy’s (the family name when we were neighbours) they thought I’d be best well away.

When I explained that for the last three weeks I’d been babysitting her boy they accused me of being underhand and lying. They were not having it and a huge bitter row ensued.

I woke up without the argument coming to any conclusion and a little confused because mum and dad and the Hardy’s had been the very best of friend’s way back when. Nonetheless, I was very restless about the following day when I’d see the Thompson’s again and wondered if my dream was some kind of message... or premonition... or maybe wishful thinking?

+

Since I’d met Melanie that lunchtime I’d been wondering if I should take Georgie’s artistic bent a little more seriously. I mean, I also thought he was talented but didn’t think his stuff worthy of an exhibition. When does a sixteen year old get their own exhibition? I asked myself. The fact was, the conservatory was festooned with his artwork and maybe it would be good for him to have something else other than... me?

Well, I‘ve tried to protect him from the more unsocial elements of life because I knew how being different can so easily cause trouble. It was OK with his mates from the nursery coming to see him because they’d known him for most of their lives. Those who did still keep in touch simply accepted him as he was and that was a blessing but should I be making more of an effort? He was sixteen and his world consisted of the house, his nappies and me and although he seemed content I didn’t really know if he was.

I think it strange that it’s now that I’m thinking these thoughts. I suppose because things are changing in my life (what with the job offer) I need to think more about Georgie and our future needs. I’m sure when Melanie first met him she wondered what I’d done to keep him as a child. I kept telling myself it was what he wanted, no, needed, to survive and I wanted my son more than anything else. It had taken so long to cajole him from that dark place he retreated to as an abandoned five year old, I just wanted him back and in my life and thanks to mum, we eventually got that.

I look across at him now from behind a sheaf of Collins and Sons papers I’m working on and he’s happily playing on the lounge floor talking with Bluey and an assortment of his other stuffed toys about someone coming to stay soon and they had to be nice. He’s wearing a pale blue onesie and underneath I can see his thick nappy held in place by his Pokémon yellow vinyl pants. He’s crawling around, organising and giving a cheery word to each animal and seems, as always, completely stress free.

I wonder if he’s going to ask me to buy him another toy from something he’s seen on TV, it’s where he gets most of his ideas – a new cartoon or kids show. The thing is, I love getting all these things for him; the clothes, the toys, the books and bedding and that’s simply because I feel guilty about the life he’s led so far and if these simple items make him happy, then why not? The joy on his face when he gets anything new is wonderful to see. He literally lights up a room; his blue eyes sparkle, his blond hair shimmers and his happy smile radiates pure delight.

The thing is... all those things make Georgie special. I never get tired of watching him or playing with him or watching him play with others in his innocent and always thoughtful way. He never has tantrums (well apart from the sulky moment in the mall, which was most unlike him) and is happy to be led rather than be a leader. How can I interfere with a boy who has found such comfort with himself, who has no worries or cares and loves his mummy?

He’s seen me looking and smiles, comes over and crawls into my lap. No more work for the time being because it’s cuddle time and I never miss an opportunity to snuggle with my loving son.

+

I don’t know what’s wrong with me these days but I’m having the most intense and detailed dreams. I wake up and I’m exhausted because it feels like I’ve actually done whatever I was doing in my dream world. This last one had me attending Georgie (naturally) but it was more of a hands-on approach, more like his mother than a babysitter. I was cleaning him up from his regular wet nappies, making him meals, taking him out to the park and generally looking after him. Except, I wasn’t his mummy because she was in the dream too and was being supportive; agreeing with my actions and praising when Georgie accomplished even the most basic task. It was quite weird because I was leading the conversation and actions.

Anyway, I’d booked a cab Saturday morning to get me over to their house by 8:30 as I wanted to check a few things with Mrs Thompson before she had to hurry off to work. She appeared pleased when I arrived a good thirty minutes earlier than planned and invited me to take breakfast with them both.

Mrs Thompson had coffee and toast, Georgie was enjoying Rice Krispies in a Minion plastic bowl. He smiled as I entered but didn’t say anything else... he knew not to talk whilst eating. He was still in his Minion jammies so assumed his mother hadn’t got him ready yet but neither appeared in the least bit worried.

“I’m glad you’re here love, I wanted to run a couple of things past you.” Mrs Thompson started before I had chance to voice my concerns. “As I’ve mentioned before Collins, the people I work for, want me on a more permanent basis. They’ve offered me the most perfect job, which to be honest I desperately want to take but of course, for the past few years my life has had to revolve around Georgie but circumstances change and therefore so do other things.”

I was nodding because she’d alluded to this in the past and in our conversation at the mall.

“I need to find Georgie a permanent nanny. One I can trust and more importantly, one who knows how to treat him as the special boy he is.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. This was exactly, well more or less, the dream I’d had but now it was real.

“I think,” She continued, “it may well take me some time to find the right person.”

Again I nodded though wanted to offer my services.

“Anyway, the upshot is the company want me to start in the office permanently in the next couple of weeks and I was wondering, if you haven’t made any other arrangements, would you like the temporary job of, well, being just that... Georgie’s nanny whilst the school holidays are on?”

I couldn’t believe what she was asking, it was all falling into place but I was struck dumb for a moment.

“I know this is great deal to ask, and I’m not even sure you haven’t already made other arrangements but, if there’s a chance you can, please say yes as it would save me an awful lot of worry.”

Georgie had stopped eating and was watching his mum and me having this discussion and for the first time since I’d met him, he appeared to be engaged in exactly what we were talking about. He didn’t say anything but I got a glance like he knew. Not only that, he knew what my answer would be.

+

...to be continued.

[wetdiaper55]

Great story ...thank you for the chapter

[Les Lea]

Thanks, glad you're enjoying it ?

Last chapter up soon.

[maly]

Wow! This just keeps getting better, me thinks that perhaps Georgie can comprehend much more than anyone thinks.

Thanks.

Maly.

[BatteredOnionRings]

I’m continuing to enjoy this story a great deal, although I’m not sure all of the change in Melanie is as positive as she thinks. It does happen sometimes that a teenager overcorrects when they realize they don’t have to be the person they’ve been—but I hope she makes a small correction in the other direction before the story concludes. As she’s currently acting I’m not sure she’d be the best influence on Georgie after all.

[Les Lea]

 

On 4/19/2022 at 1:40 PM, BatteredOnionRings said:

I’m continuing to enjoy this story a great deal, although I’m not sure all of the change in Melanie is as positive as she thinks. It does happen sometimes that a teenager over-corrects when they realize they don’t have to be the person they’ve been—but I hope she makes a small correction in the other direction before the story concludes. As she’s currently acting I’m not sure she’d be the best influence on Georgie after all.

Not sure if Melanie knows exactly why she reacts the way she does when around Georgie but she's committed and it's hard to deny that sweet boy/child anything.

Thanks for the comment, it's much appreciated.

Next chapter soon.

Hugs to each and all

Les

[BatteredOnionRings]

She’s reminding me a bit of this classic exchange from my second-favorite sitcom.

Frasier: Hello, this is Dr. Frasier Crane. How did I help you?
Chet: "Hello, Dr Crane. This is Chet from Whitby Island. I gave you a call last year. I was having problems with low self-esteem."
Frasier: Ah, ah, I see. And did my advice help you to become more assertive?
Chet: "Damn straight. Yeah, now people say I'm downright arrogant. Well, you know what I say? Screw 'em!"
Frasier: Well, perhaps you took my advice just a bit too far.
Chet: "Who the hell are you? Screw you, too!"
Frasier: Well, as I give myself a well-deserved pat on the back, and Chet marches off to invade Poland, let's just go to commercial.

[Sir Stinkypants]

An absolutely lovely tale! Thank you so much for sharing it, I for one would dearly love to read more!

[Les Lea]

Many thanks for your comments... I really do appreciate everyone who takes the time to leave a message.

So, a huge  THANKS

[Les Lea]

Part 10

Mrs Thompson saw that I was a bit stunned by what she’d just asked. What she didn’t know was that I’d more or less lived this scenario already and I knew what a storm it would kick up - if my dream was to be believed.

“Look love, I know it’s a lot to ask but please, take some time and have a think... talk it over with your parents and...”

She could still see things ticking over in my head. To be honest I was still a bit shaken by Georgie’s look. I mean, I know it sounds daft but it was like I was already a guest at a party I didn’t know I’d been invited to (or perhaps I had but just didn’t know it). Also, I wasn’t sure what all this meant because all these points were coming together just as I thought/dreamed it would.

“Oh, I’m sorry love,” she changed the subject, “I forgot, how’s the play going?”

I came out of my daze. “I’ve quit. Things weren’t going as I’d hoped and, too many distractions.”

“That boy?”

“Well,” I shrugged trying to be non-committal, “a boy.”

“I hope he’s worth it love but...” then realising something, “Oh, is that why you’re now available next week?”

I simply nodded as I didn’t want to get into a huge discussion.

“Well, from a purely selfish point of view... yeah!” She waved her hands in the air as if celebrating some childish victory or other. It was also nice to see her face so animated; it took a good ten years off when she wasn’t being serious.

That little “Yeah” was quite a revelation because I saw that Mrs Thompson had a silly side and wasn’t afraid to show it. I mean, I couldn’t imagine my mum in a hundred years saying something so silly and juvenile but then, she doesn’t have a Georgie to live with. He was giggling at his mum’s reaction and I caught just how much the two of them were like each other.

Well, perhaps I’m reading too much into that moment of silliness but it did look like a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders and the result was instant happiness... and I’d done that by making myself available for next weekend. I felt really good about myself because I could make a difference. I will make a difference.

She looked at her watch. “Oh hell, where does the time fly? I’m going to be late so... well... you know where everything is and I’m sorry but I’ll have to leave you with Georgie’s soaked morning nappy, if that’s OK?”

“No probs, you get yourself off I’ll see to our Little Minion.”

Georgie had finished his bowl of cereal and was sat quietly wriggling (not unhappily) in his soaked nappy.

After his mum kissed him bye-bye and she’d driven off, I looked at him and he gave me one of his wonderful welcoming smiles.

“OK buddy, let’s get you all fresh-as-a-daisy shall we?”

He nodded vigorously but with a slight grimace so perhaps he was more than just sodden.

+

A poo-filled nappy isn’t a problem to me as I’ve changed quite a few over the time I’ve babysat but there was something about changing Georgie that felt would be different. Not different in that he was a bigger boy and therefore, what would greet me would also be bigger, but it felt like it was going to be a turning point of some kind. Again, I’m not sure why I thought this way because it wouldn’t be the first time I’d changed him but my approach this time was more dutiful than before. It felt as if this should be what I did for him, like not only did he expect it, but I expected to do it.

What I found myself saying when the result of his open nappy was revealed “What a good boy.”

He lay on his back hugging Bluey distractedly humming some piece of music from one of his favourite cartoons. Undeterred by the mess I simply smiled and encouraged him and continued to say how impressed I was and what a clever boy he was. It was like I’d been doing it my entire life. He was sucking on Bluey’s ear.

His body was that of a teenager, although I have to say a baby soft teenager and had few if any muscles, but I spoke and treated him like he was a three year old and everything was special and an adventure so he should be praised for being ‘a good boy’. It was catching.

However, as I cleaned that little pink piece of plastic holding his genitals in place I asked if it bothered him. I wasn’t sure what answer I was expecting but he just shook his head and said that mummy knows best. I suppose she does but I was still thinking he was sixteen and yet here I was treating him as a little tot. It was strange that one second I simply saw him as a child and the next a teenager like me.

The thing was he wasn’t a teenager like me. He was a child, a vulnerable, sweet baby boy who needed protecting from the world’s nastiness and horrors. No wonder his mum and gran had gone out of their way to give him a life of juvenile security... his innocence would keep him safe. Well, all those thoughts filled my head as I set about making him as comfortable as I could.

I quickly had Georgie all cleaned up and wearing in a lovely soft thick nappy, which returned him to the toddler status where he always looked most content. He’s a sweet child who needs love, affection and a great deal of looking after. I was in my element.

I let him decide which plastic pants to wear and he pointed to a new pack which had been left unopened on top of a chest of drawers.

“Oh,” I cooed as I ripped open the cellophane, “are these new?” He nodded. “Well this is exciting isn’t it... getting a new pair of pants for...” I was stunned because they were a lovely soft pink vinyl, very shiny but looked durable because of their thicker leg cuffs – nothing was going to leak from them.

His eyes lit up.

“Do you like these sweetheart?”

He nodded enthusiastically, obviously the colour didn’t worry him in the least and then I thought, of course they wouldn’t, he doesn’t see things as boy colours or girl colours, nothing is that categorised in the mind of a toddler.

He held Bluey up and talked to him as I shuffled his waterproof pants up his legs: they were incredibly sturdy. “Right then mister,” it was easy to see how unaffected he was by being changed but as I helped him up he just hugged me and said “Thank you hhmffaanyy...” The last word lost against my neck.

“My pleasure sweetie,” I thought for a moment he’d called me ‘nanny’, which although a little odd had been what his mother and I had been talking about. He stepped back and of course I couldn’t help but pat his padded rear and ask him what he fancied doing next.

His new pink plastic nappy cover actually glowed as a ray of sun brightened up his room and, ridiculously, I saw that as some kind of sign. I know I’ve said it before but he looked childishly, uncomplicatedly radiant. There was luminosity about him and it wasn’t just his shiny pants.

He eagerly shouted “train” and ran over to where it was on the play-mat in the corner of his room, knelt down and began to push his wooden toy around the newly extended track.

I had the soiled items to get rid of so I left him totally engaged shunting his train through whatever imaginary land he’d discovered. “I’ll be back in a few minute sweetheart... just need to do something with this” and held up his mucky bundle.

Meanwhile, he’d slotted in his dummy and was already well into his ‘rail’ journey. “You’re a very good boy Georgie.” I found myself repeating as I left to go downstairs and begin my first day, as I saw it, as his nanny.

+

I was so pleased that Melanie was able to do next week because it would give me time to try and find someone a bit more permanent. However, because she hadn’t said a definite ‘no’ to my question about the school holidays, my hopes lifted that there might be some way she could help out. The thing is, even though it’s barely three weeks since she’s been coming, it’s difficult thinking of her as a sixteen year old schoolgirl. I mean, she appears to have matured right in front of my eyes and seems more than capable of looking after Georgie in a permanent capacity.

Not only that but I feel confident in leaving her with him and I’m sure he’s happy being in her company. The way he hugs her and... well... I have wondered if he has the slightest idea of how friendly they used to be. I haven’t seen any indications that he recognises her but there are times when I think he must have a memory that there is something they have in common. At least I hope so... I hope that there’s at least a residual spark that links them together.

I know, I know, it’s a ridiculous idea for her to be a ‘nanny’ because no doubt someone with her ambition and drive will have mapped out a future that doesn’t have me and my son at its centre. You’d think, over the years, that I’d have managed to gather a group of real friends who I could count on to ‘help out’. That’s simply not the case. I’ve always been weary of exposing Georgie to other people and suspicious that others might want to change him or interfere in him being how he is.  Mum was always so protective and I suppose I became equally invested in keeping him away from any negativity others might bring. With Melanie, I don’t feel in the least bit worried about that.

However, if she could give me those few weeks of summer holiday I’d make it financially worth her while but right now, I need to concentrate on work. They have a big contract coming up and I need to make sure the financial aspects are covered correctly.

+

The morning had gone quickly. Once I’d Georgie all cleaned up (he looked super happy in his t-shirt and pink vinyl pants), the washing done and nappies out on the line. Lunch would be a doddle because the fridge always had his meals labelled and ready for a warm up or simply ready to serve. Thankfully, Georgie isn’t a fussy eater, or maybe his mother had just worked out what he liked and gave him that, anyway, the hard work was already done.

“Are any of your friends visiting us today Georgie?”  He shook his head but showed me the extra track he had for his wooden train set and led me on a journey around his room that it almost circled. He made lots of train noises and station stops along the way and I was quite impressed just how simple the activity focused his concentration.

For a brief moment I remembered us doing something similar when we were kids together. Then, like now, he was the train driver but I was a passenger and he’d take us on a wonderful journey around the living room stopping off at fairy-tale places he’d just learned about. His imagination, even as a toddler was quite exceptional. Well, that’s what my memory informed me.

Now, I had to put my adult hat on. It was all very well getting down and playing next to him, stroking his lithe body and patting his padded bottom in encouragement, but I was an adult and had to come up with some fun things to occupy our time together.

I’d seen that there were cooking ingredients in the cupboard and decided that after lunch I’d get him to make a special cake for when his mum returned from a hard day at the office. He liked that idea.

Before that I took a break and checked my diary. He’d moved over to a space ship made from Lego that he was incorporating into his game but he’d slipped in his dummy and was gently sucking on that. Meanwhile, I had three people I sat for on a regular basis and another four who called me in when they needed emergency cover. However, with the holidays coming up, as had happened the year before, I was busy babysitting almost the entire time; some people not coping very well with their young being home during the day and often needing a break. Last year I made a ton of money in the holidays and anticipated the same would happen again this time so I hadn’t found a job like some of my friends.

However, if I simply told everyone that I was fully booked up for this year so couldn’t do what I had before, then that would allow me to babysit Georgie the entire summer months. I know I wouldn’t make as much as I could do but, as someone famous once said “Money isn’t everything”, it might be an experience being a full time ‘nanny’.

However, travelling backwards and forwards every day might be a burden but I could get around that, somehow? I wasn’t old enough for driving lessons, or a car but I did have a bike, though very rarely rode it these days. Still, it might be a possibility and it would keep me fit.

The more I thought about it the more I definitely wanted to do it but thanks to that dream, my parents might have a problem with it all. I’d have to chat with Mrs Thompson more and find out if I can let them know just who it is I would be ‘nannying’ for, I mean, she did say to discuss it with my parents.

+

I was home by six with the smell of baking throughout the house. Georgie was grinning as I walked in and said, as he ran up to give me his usual welcoming kiss, that he and granny made me a cake. I thought he’d said ‘nanny’ and wondered if perhaps, somehow, between the two of them, they’d discussed it and Melanie had decided she’d take the job.

Of course that was just me being very keen because I doubted if Georgie could discuss such a thing with anyone. His speech, like his reading and mental level was that of a three year old but my heart leapt at the thought. He was so proud of the sponge cake that was cooling on the table and I joined in with Melanie’s praise as to what a fantastic job he’d done.

“Mummy, we’ve made a cake for your tea,” he beamed.

He was wearing a very shiny pink plastic nappy cover and I wondered if it was something Melanie had brought for him because I didn’t remember buying him anything like it.

“Is that a new pair of plastic pants sweetie?”

He nodded that was the case.

“They look shiny sweetheart, do you like them?” I queried not sure of the next response.

He eagerly nodded his support for them. They did look quite sturdy and the thicker cuffs I’m sure meant, no matter how wet things got, very little would be escaping. I was impressed.

“He’s been wearing them since this morning.” Melanie chimed in her usual measured way. “They were an unopened pack on the dresser... I wasn’t too sure,” she said as I ran my hand over them, “but he seems to love them”.

I hadn’t bought him any new ones recently but perhaps they were a pair that had been in his drawers for a while and he’d just discovered them. I had a thought - maybe, ermm, perhaps from when mum used to love buying him stuff like that. That would be a few years back now surely they haven’t been hiding away all this time?

“Did you find them in your drawer sweetie?”

He shook his head. “Granny brought them.”

“You mean granny ‘bought’ them sweetheart.” He looked a bit confused but I didn’t go into what the difference meant. “Well sweetheart, I think you look lovely wearing them and they go so well with your t-shirt.”

“Yes, when I changed him earlier he wanted them back to wear and he even got some flour over them but it just wiped off... easy to clean wasn’t it Georgie?” asked Melanie in the sweetest manner. I liked the way they were with each other and hoped against hope that things would soon work out and Melanie would stay. “As easy as pie.”

“Cake.” I added in my own ‘sweet’ and humorous way.

I looked across at Melanie and she was equally as thrilled with what they’d produced and offered to make me a cup of tea.

“Well it all looks fantastic sweetheart,” I said to Georgie, “but perhaps we can have a piece together after we’ve had our meal.”

“Oh, I haven’t fed Georgie yet. Would you like me to make you something as well... I see we have pasta and stuff?” Melanie was on her way to the kitchen.

“No love thanks. I had quite a large lunch so if you’ll just get his meal ready that would be terrific...” She looked at Georgie who was admiring the cake, “and then, later, I think we can enjoy the fruits of your afternoon’s labour.”

+

After he’d eaten his meal and Melanie had washed up we sat in front of the TV, Georgie lying on his belly with his legs wafting from side to side as he enjoyed one of his favourite cartoons about a police force of little dogs. I was sat on the chair, whilst Melanie sat on the sofa but I think we both knew we needed to talk. As Georgie was engaged in his show I ventured to ask if Melanie had thought any further about my offer.

“I love the idea Mrs Thompson...”

“Denise please, I think we’re past being that formal now.”

“Denise, erm, it just doesn’t seem right but if you insist... Denise. I’d love to look after Georgie during the holidays but mum and dad will need to know an awful lot more about where I am and who I’m working for... are you sure it will be OK for me to tell them?”

“Look love, I’m asking a lot of you and I’m sure, as a sixteen year old you have plans that take you far away from a babysitting service. However, you would be doing me a huge favour and I know Georgie would love it. So, if you want to tell your parents that’s fine and should they need to chat, I will make myself available if they have any queries.”

I could see the worry slightly disappear from her face knowing she could chat openly to her parents but now I was worried about old wounds, opinions and gossip rearing its head all over again. I didn’t want to subject Georgie to any upset.

+

All the way home in the taxi I was both buzzing and apprehensive. The cake had gone down well and seeing Georgie in his little pink plastic pants had made me shudder in delight. It felt like he was wearing something I‘d given him, and not only that, he’d loved it. The pleasure I had on watching him wonder around, get involved with his toys or as we giggled our way through making the cake was immense. It seemed that every chance he got he wanted to cuddle and whisper how much he loved me and I repeated the same love back to him. As I patted his slinky pink padded bottom I knew I was destined to look after him.

That was another thing. The fact that Denise had no idea where those pants came from was a bit perplexing but as she reasoned, it must have been something hidden away that her mother had bought at some time, and had resurfaced with Georgie finding them in a hidey-hole somewhere.

In fact, the entire day couldn’t have gone better. Mrs Thomp... I mean, Denise had agreed to let me tell mum and dad about who she was and told them to ring her if they had any queries. However, despite my enthusiasm for the job I knew that neither of my parents would be happy about such a decision. They want me to follow my brother and sister to have a university experience and education. But, I know I’m only sixteen but I feel I know what I want for my future... and that’s working with children and what better way to get a start on that than being a ‘nanny’ for a few months during the holidays?

Denise also said that if I wanted, there was a spare room that I could have so I wouldn’t have to travel every day, but that was up to me. The wage discussed was nowhere near how much I’d earned the previous year doing part time babysitting but it was more than I’d expected.

Yes, by the time I got home I’d planned just how I’d approach my parents and how reasonable I was going to be. However, and this was the determining fact, I wanted to spend the summer holidays with Georgie... no matter what anyone else thought.

+

“Mum, I’ve found a job for summer.” I started as soon as I got in.

“Have you love... well that’s super... where?” She smiled her support.

“The lady I babysit for, the one I’ve just returned from needs someone more permanently and asked if I fancied being her son’s nanny.” I forced a smile laced with apprehension which I hoped she didn’t notice.

“Really, isn’t that a bit too much to expect from a teenager?” I could see the doubt creeping into her eyes.

“Not really,” I was quickly in with my argument. “I have been spending the last couple of Saturdays with him and he likes me and I like him, we get along well and besides, his mother needs the help.”

“Yes, but love, being in total charge and babysitting are two completely different things... there’s so much more responsibility to being a nanny. Don’t you have to pass a test or something to be such a thing anyhow?”

The conversation went on this way for some time and repeated itself when dad arrived home. However, I told them that despite everything it was something I wanted to do as I planned a career in childcare and this would be a brilliant opportunity to see if I was really cut out for such a job.

“Well, who is this lady that’s offered you such an opportunity?” I think dad had tumbled there was more to my desire than just babysitting.

“Well,” I started now for the first time a little unsure of myself, “do you remember the Hardy’s?”

“Of course, Denise and Donald and erm...”

“Georgie”

“George, that’s right George.” I saw dad remembering things as they used to be.  “Wasn’t he your best friend when you were kids, always in and out of each other’s houses?” He smiled at the memory.

“It was such a shame what happened to them but Donald,” she sighed, “was such a bad self-centred man and Denise, well she was left to look after that little lad all on her own. It was disgusting what her husband left her with... all that debt and all...”

Once mum got started it seemed she had a lot to say on the subject. I just let her talk.

Eventually, the recollections of that period over ten years ago began to falter and brought them both back to what we were originally talking about. They looked to me to explain.

“Well, Mrs Hardy is now Mrs Thompson,” and as if to explain I added, “her pre-married name. And, for the past couple of weeks I’ve been babysitting for her.”

“Good heaven,” mum said, “I thought she’d left the area completely after all the things that were said about her and...”

“Yes mum, that’s precisely why she didn’t want me to tell anyone I was babysitting for her... she didn’t want to rake up all the ‘nastiness and accusations’.”

“Oh. I hope she didn’t think we were part of...” Mum was trying to defend something that might or might not have been said over ten years ago but she faltered as if she had perhaps said something she now regretted.

“I suppose she didn’t re-marry?” Dad was on the case.

“No, there’s just her and her son.”

“So, she had another kid then?” Mum had a touch of accusation to her voice that I didn’t like.

“No, just Georgie.”

“Ohh,” was the confused collective sound from mum and dad.

+

... to be continued

[maly]

Ahh now thats going to take a little explaining on Melanie's part!

Thanks for the new chapter.

Maly.

[Les Lea]

Let's hope it's not going to be too confusing for any of them.

 

Thanks for your continued support Maly, it's always apreciated.

[Les Lea]

Part 11

I explained to mum and dad how with his father leaving and the subsequent problems Denise endured the entire thing had a profound effect on George who now had a mental age of a toddler.

“Oh my God, the poor boy,” mum empathised.

“Poor woman,” dad added.

“Yes,” I joined in, “people were not kind except for one person... Mrs Hardy, erm, Thompson, I mean, Denise’s estranged mother, without a second thought, took them in and helped her back from the brink.”

I hoped I wasn’t being too melodramatic for my parents but from what Denise had said, she wasn’t far off doing something very drastic as she slipped down the hole she found herself in. She was in no position to stop that slide and was dragging her scared and confused son down with her.

I saw it as my duty to defend Denise and all she’d endured since the flight from next door.

There was so much more I wanted to say but thought it was really her decision just how much they were told. However, I did tell them, that I had a phone number if they wanted to discuss anything further with her but she wasn’t keen on making the journey back to the area where all her problems began.

“Mmmm, that’s understandable,” agreed dad.

After that there were a few moments of recollection before they began to tell me what a bad idea it was.

+

I was dreading the phone ringing so when it did I was really quite a bundle of nerves. I’d just got Georgie changed and nicely wrapped in his thick nightly padding when it went.  I knew who it would be and wondered, after ten year and more, how I would be able to chat about something that for years I hadn’t had to confront.

The Philips’, despite being our next door neighbours and Georgie and Mel being childhood best of friends, hadn’t been there to offer the support I’d needed when trouble broke. The general opinion was not very sympathetic towards me because of accusations that I must have known about my husband’s criminal intentions. I hadn’t but it hurt a lot that was how most people thought. I had no one definite to blame for such a slur but it was one that gained credence and was the start of my anguish.

When I disappeared and we found our way to mums not once on my mobile or via email did any of my neighbours reach out. I was cut off completely. Thank God for mum otherwise I’d have been more swamped than I actually was.

However, I now needed a favour and as I padded downstairs to answer the phone I picked up the receiver with some misgivings... but hoped that I’d maintain civility and get my hopes across without losing any of the control I thought I had.

“Hello” Quite an inauspicious start to what I was sure would be the third degree.

At that moment, something happened that had never happened before. Georgie had got up from his bed, waddled down the stairs and stood in the doorway to listen in. He’d never left his bed before and this was quite a moment. However, I saw he wanted to be involved so waved him over as I added some pleasantries as I began to speak with who was on the end of the phone.

Georgie came and snuggled up against my bosom. I was breathing quite heavily, such was the anticipation and fear for where this conversation might end up but it was Melanie who spoke first and then put her parents on conference call so everyone could join in.

Georgie’s presence had an immediate effect on me. He calmed me down as I hugged and patted hi soft thick padding. His slinky pink plastic pants, which he’d asked if he could continue to wear, together with his pink onesie made me go more maternal than I think I’d ever been before. This was silly really, I’d just put him in all this stuff and yet now, here beside me, the feelings I have to protect and love my damaged son meant I wouldn’t take any nonsense from my ex-neighbours... even if it did mean me losing Melanie.

+

Mrs Thompson, I mean Denise (I’ll have to get used to calling her that), answered all mum and dad’s questions. She even complimented them on producing such a wonderful daughter who was so attuned to a child’s needs.

She was very open with them about why she’d booked me in the first place, hoping against hope that perhaps our past as best friends might just open a mental pathway that he recognised. She admitted that as yet sadly she saw no signs of this happening but realised it was purely wishful thinking on her part. As it was, I’d proved a better babysitter and a more efficient caregiver than anyone else.

I listened in, trying not to interfere too much, or guide the conversation, but there have been times at their house, and especially in the conservatory with granny’s portrait looking down on me, when I’ve thought I knew and understood everything so well.

Meanwhile, Denise was upfront about her current economical state and that she needed the job being offered because of the financial security it would give. Alas, in so doing, meant the flexibility would disappear and that’s where a more permanent caregiver was needed. 

She confessed that she’d happily offer me a full time job looking after Georgie if I was old enough and wanted to. However, if I could do it for the length of the school break, it would give her time to look for a different candidate. Unfortunately, she was under pressure herself and hoped that I might be able to accommodate her temporary request.

I was impressed with how she dealt with all my parent’s queries and I could feel my determination growing that I wanted the job as nanny to Georgie. I began to think that even if they forbid me from doing so, I would still find a way of doing it.

Throughout the conversation I thought my parents were trying to find fault, or catch her out, and I didn’t like that. In fact, the more Denise spoke and answered the question posed the more I felt protective of her. When I noticed mum pull a face, whilst actually agreeing verbally it annoyed me so much I actually called her out, much to my parent’s surprise. 

Dad said he didn’t really want his sixteen year old daughter travelling backwards and forwards every day - late nights and early mornings. Denise simply said that would be no problem as she had a spare room with my name on it if that made life easier for everyone and helped put their minds at ease. Dad was stumped for an argument against that idea.

Mum then put forward the fact that it would interfere with my social life, my friends, my other babysitting obligations.

“Well, of course I’d hate to interfere with any of that.” Denise answered. “But Melanie has said that she’s always thankful to have parents who respect their growing daughter’s opinion and decision making abilities. I’m also of that opinion. I’d love Melanie to be here for Georgie and me but she is a young lady who knows her own mind. If she says ‘No’ then ‘No’ it is and I would think no less of her because of the fantastic job she’s done so far and the help and encouragement she’s given my son.”

With each word she spoke I was getting even more single-minded (if that was possible) that I would be spending my summer break being the perfect nanny. There was also another thing bubbling inside my head... it was a job I was meant to do.

+

God, that was difficult. I tried my best to sound positive and honest but I got the feeling that I’m still not trusted, even after all this time. However, because Georgie was cuddling with me all the way through the conversation, his gentle presence kept me calm. It was really quite amazing how just stroking his hair, or patting his thick padding, or running my hand over the silky texture of his plastic pants, relaxed me and made the ordeal that much more tolerable.

My advice would be to all parents who have proper loving kids to keep them in nappies and plastic pants because they’ll reduce the anxiety levels instantly once you get to pet them.

So much for my advice, Impractical I know but it certainly works for me.

Meanwhile, back to the real world.

I didn’t get a definitive answer but I knew, regrettably, that the debate in the Philips’ household was going to be fractious. However, I hoped I hadn’t made things impossible for Melanie and trusted that when she called me back (whenever that might be) that at least she’d still be able to do next Saturday.

If I’d been a religious woman I might even have prayed that an angel would come to my rescue if Melanie couldn’t continue with her amazing relationship with Georgie.

After the call, bless him, my son was dozing whilst still hugging tightly, so I suggested I take him back up to his bed.

“Don’t worry mummy, she’ll be back with us soon.” His eyes were heavy with sleep but that was typical of him, even if he wasn’t sure what was going on, he was always so loving and supportive. I bet everyone wishes they had a son like mine.

I got him back to his room and popped in his dummy, which he instantly began to suck and settled back down. For him this had been quite a late night but I was so glad I had him with me. I hate to think how things might have gone had I not had his soothing presence.

“Nigh –nigh munny,” he was tired but tried to speak with his dummy in, “hanny il b wi us soom.”

Such reassurance from him did lift me so as I kissed him night-night. I can never stop gazing at my boy. Snuggled down under his juvenile blanket, in his blue and pink onesie and thick padding, whilst sucking on his dummy, I  filled up with as much love as anyone can have for their child and there was no one anywhere quite like Georgie.

+

After the call mum gave me an appraising look. “You’ve changed young lady... and I’m not sure if it’s for the best.”

Nevertheless, I returned the damning look because I knew she had opinions without knowing the facts, and after ten years, that really bugged me. However, I also knew what she meant because in just a couple of weeks I’d gone from a nice meek and mild schoolgirl, who’d want to keep the peace at all costs, to someone with a mind of their own and who wouldn’t put up with any crap. Yet, having said that, I could (and do) go weak at the knees when thinking of Georgie.

It’s having spent time in that environment. The house has been through a great deal and I’m sure before the stressed out ‘Hardy family’ arrived, there’d been a lot of love going on with her mother’s day care responsibilities. I suppose I picked up on that.

I knew, from what Denise had said about her mother that the day care was a placed loved by all. Her mother loved looking after all the children, the kids themselves found a place of fun and happiness and their parents found a woman who could be relied upon to do the best she could for their offspring. Yes, Georgie’s granny was a force to be reckoned with and there was something in me that strived to be that good and accepting - strong and supportive.

It might have been the way her portrait looked down across the conservatory but even I got the impression she was keeping an eye on all that went on. I also got the impression that she wouldn’t let anything bad happen to her sweet baby grandson. I wanted to be that person who attained that much respect and love from one and all.

Perhaps, if this all worked out, maybe we could open up the day care centre again and I could look after many children, but, I was getting ahead of myself.

I had hoped Georgie might have good memories of the times we spent together as toddlers but somehow, that’s now all gone but his granny, the day care and the kids themselves gave him a new perspective. Not the one perhaps everyone expected but one with which he seems happy. I was seeing it as my duty to carry on that good work.

+

My parents continued to argue about it not being right and how they thought Georgie should be in some kind of institution where he could be looked after properly. I argued that he was being looked after properly and no institution, hospice or private hospital could offer him more care and attention than how his mother and gran had, and continued to care for him. They just couldn’t see it but eventually I wore them down with my argument, although it might have been my determination, and they agreed that I could spend my summer ‘nannying’ if I was sure that’s what I wanted to do.

However, they stipulated two things; the first was that I find a course that would give me childminding status, and second, that if at any time I felt it was all getting too much I had to promise I’d give it up and not continue just because I felt sorry for Georgie.

I was so pleased I’d got this much consent (in the way things were going I honestly thought they’d never agree) that I didn’t tell them that in no way did I feel sorry for Georgie. In fact, quite the opposite, I found him a beacon of unselfish love, thoughtfulness and there was no denying it... unbelievable cuteness.

I know there would be many who agree with my parent’s assessment that he should be in an institution but that’s because they didn’t know him and had no idea what the boy had been through to get to where he was. To me, there are far too many people happy to consign others to the scrap heap if it means they don’t have to deal with a problem. Mainly though, Georgie wasn’t a problem, he was just a cute, if large, toddler who loved everyone and everything, who had a talent for art and who looked wonderfully happy in a nappy.

I went and grabbed the portrait Georgie had done of me and had received many plaudits from everyone including mum and dad. At last I could reveal who this talented artist actually was... initially they didn’t believe me. I told them about my interaction with Mrs Langford-Court and her desire to have an exhibition. Though I didn’t add what Denise’s opinion of the woman was. They seemed impressed and I could see they were now unsure of the true nature of Georgie.

It just made it all so clear to me, everyone and everything would be better off with more Georgie’s in the world.

+

The following morning when she called with the good news I was ecstatic. I was just giving Georgie his breakfast and planning on what he was going to wear for the day when the phone rang. I wasn’t expecting it to be Melanie, more likely work, so I wasn’t ready for such good news first thing. When she said that she could take the reins from the following Saturday after school broke up, she was “...available to be the nanny I wanted”.

I asked if this was OK with her parents and she said they’d had a long and frank discussion but the end result was... she had permission. The two stipulations didn’t seem unfair and I thought how grown up of her to want to be registered as a childminder and not simply a babysitter. I was so grateful to her parents although didn’t know what she’d had to go through or agree to, to get this fantastic result.

Both Georgie and I danced around the kitchen we were so happy.

+

She had to get off to school but promised to call me that evening and then we could finalise things better. She said she was so excited and couldn’t believe the way things had panned out and so quickly. I just hoped she hadn’t felt overwhelmed by everything and that she’d thought through her own needs and hopes. We talked for quite some time but wondered if being called a nanny was too much.

When I thought about it ‘nanny’ was probably an unacceptable term but Melanie didn’t mind. The fact that I helped her find a course online that would of benefit with any future qualifications. I was pleased she took the job so seriously and the fact that she wondered if, at some time in the future, we might open up the house for childminding more than just Georgie, I liked her ambition. Very much like mother.

When I’d finished chatting Georgie came and crawled up beside me. Even though he was almost as tall as me, it was always lovely when he did this and we snuggled together. He had his thick daytime nappy covered by the pale blue vinyl pants that had little puppies running all over them. His t-shirt also had a puppy on the front but he’d discarded the matching shorts. I patted his bottom and he cuddled in further, sucking his dummy and looking happy with the news. Although, when I think about it, he never seemed in any doubt she’d be coming to join us. In fact, he said that she’d be with us soon.

We made plans to get the spare room ready, just in case she decided she would like to stay over. I quite liked the thought that I’d have another person to talk with. It all seemed to be panning out and I can’t tell you how pleased the company was that I was going to become full time after all.

+

I arrived Saturday morning armed with a small case full of clothes, my laptop and some books on childminding.

Denise and Georgie greeted me at the door both appeared to be very excited. Georgie was dressed in the same Pokémon outfit he wore when I first saw him. He looked his usual gorgeous self and every bit of the cutie he was. His mother was very welcoming and showed me to ‘my’ room, should I decide to use it. I’d more or less decided it was a good idea to spend as much time as possible there so that wasn’t a problem.

When I got downstairs Georgie came in for a cuddle. He’d done this so many times and yet it never failed to send a shiver of excitement up my spine. When he pulled away he took out his dummy and had the most dazzling smile.

A few moments later he said “Granny” and tilted his head ever so slightly.

“Nanny?” I gently corrected.

He came back for more cuddling. “I love you granny.”

“Hmmm???”

+++++

The End

[maly]

Thanks for this much anticipated new chapter.

I have a theory that Melanie might be 'channeling' Georgies granny.

Maly.

[Eagle0769]

Wow what an ending. So happy everything turned out for the 3 of them.

I would have liked to see if his drawings were good enough to be seen in an art gallery.

Great job Les lea. Thanks for sharing. ?

[Les Lea]

Thanks Maly, and thanks Eagle0769

So glad you enjoyed my return to this story and being so positive about the extra chapters and the ending.

Granny's eyes aren't just looking down on them from the portrait any more... maybe Georgie's gift is more than just painting pretty pictures?

Hugs

Les

[maly]

So glad you picked up this story again, maybe a certain other story could be finished as satisfactorily as this one?

Maly.