Georgie 1-11

[Les Lea]

On 5/11/2022 at 9:43 PM, maly said:

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

Maly.

Hi Maly

I'm afraid I've removed Mrs Hopkins and Inclinations from the site and aren't planning on returning to them anytime soon. Sorry.

Hopefully, might have some newer stuff up soon.

In the meantime... as  always, thanks for your continued support.

Hugs

Les

[Marcus]

On 4/9/2022 at 6:15 AM, Les Lea said:

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.

They need to get Georgie out of that house. Gran made it where he wouldn't be like his dad.

[Marcus]

On 5/11/2022 at 4:43 PM, maly said:

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

Maly.

Wow. Love this . What a happy ending.