A New World Begins

The Lost Boy

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Craig: Hi Nat, how are you? You just caught me before bed.

Nathan: Hi Craig, I’m hoping I’m not disturbing you. Don’t want you turning into Mr Grumpy.

Craig: No Nat, you’re fine. Are you alone or with guys?

Nathan: All on my ownsome, Boots. Just back from sports and idling until dinner. You were missed at water polo today though. We had a tough game against the A team from Harrisburg High, they’re second in the league and really stretched us. We won, but just by a single point.

Craig: That’s good though, Nat.

Nathan: Yes, but we were flagging at the end. Having you in defense would have made it a little less fraught in the last quarter. I even ended up having to shield our goal and take a few kicks myself.

Craig: Never mind, maybe you can get Kyle to rub you down with his magic ointment. It worked for me.

Nathan: I can think of someone else I’d rather have rubbing me down…

Craig: Maybe, but I think Lee is taken. Anyway, he’d probably use engine oil on you…

Nathan: 😊

Craig: I’ve got access to loads of engine oil now I work at the garage and some mechanics too. Maybe I should get them all in a jacuzzi and report back on the experience. Purely in the name of research of course.

Nathan: Of course…

Craig: How is the plan for Thanksgiving going?

Nathan: Oh, just as you might guess. Travis and Noah are just taking it in their stride but Will and Shane are pretty excited. Shane’s not used to private flying so it’s quite a big deal for him and Will, well, he looked up the specification of Travis’s plane on the internet and hasn’t stopped lecturing us all about it. We all know far more about turboprop efficiency and integrated navigation than anyone at NASA now…

Craig: 😊 That sounds like Will.

Nathan: We could have done with you here tonight too, Boots. The Harrisburg Hawks are staying over in the Old Pavilion dorm and Jackson is hosting them to dinner. Both our team and theirs at Jackson’s table. Their team Captain seemed quite disappointed none of us were in uniform today. I’m sure he’d appreciate you doing your formal equerry thing, standing to attention and calling out their names as they enter the room.

Craig: Well, if you send Travis’s plane over to pick me up, and pay a decent wage…

Nathan: Their team captain is a guy called Tom Brady, from the banking family I think. He seems to have an eye for boxers so you never know your luck…

Craig: 😊 So, you’re my pimp now are you, Nat?

Nathan: 😊

Craig: I guess one advantage of Prohibition for you under 21s is you don’t have to spend dinner tonight making sure the port decanter doesn’t touch the table before it has completed a full circuit of the table.

Nathan: I’m not even sure we have that law over here, Boots.

Craig: It’s not a law here, either, Nat, just the done thing. You can ask my dad when you meet him again. He told me he’s accepted your dad’s invitation to play golf the Sunday after Thanksgiving.

Nathan: Speaking of golf, Shane is trying to set resurrect the golf team here. He’s even managed to get Jackson on board with it.

Craig: Wow! But Jackson doesn’t play golf. He’s as bad as me at it.

Nathan: True enough, but there’s some kudos to be gained by being the new club’s Founding President and arranging to have the college use our course and the country club as its base. Shane knew exactly which buttons to press when he pitched it to Jackson.

Craig: There’s smart under those curls of his

Nathan: 😊

Craig: So, Jackson is really going to set up the golf club for Shane?

Nathan: Yes. He just doesn’t fully realise it yet but by the end of dinner tonight – I’m on Jackson’s table to help host the Hawks – he’ll have had a bright idea and even been invited to meet my dad and finalise the deal about using our course. It’ll help me out too of course, not just Shane.

Craig: Hmmm, Machiavelli Bauer. It has a ring to it…

Nathan: You boxers seem to have a thing about rings don’t you?

Craig: Piss off, Nat!

Nathan: Actually, I probably ought to. Can’t keep my guests waiting.

Craig: Have a good night, Nat.

Nathan: You too, Boots.

Craig: I will, I’ll be dreaming before you’ve even started on the horse’s doofers…

Nathan: 😊

* * *

Nathan arrived at the ante room a few minutes before six thirty and found a handful of people, mainly from the college water polo team but also including Jackson, already there. He poured himself a glass of water and then strolled over to one of the armchairs nearest the door ready for when the Hawks arrived.

“Mind if I join you?” asked Jackson, dropping into the adjacent seat without waiting for an answer. Nathan nodded and took a sip of water.

“I’ve been giving some thought to the suggestion Cadet Lundgren raised about re-forming the golf club,” began Jackson. “After discussing it with the sports committee, we all agree it has merit. The one sticking point is that the club would need access to a course which the college could declare as its home ground when hosting matches. Obviously, we don’t have one here on the grounds, and the local public courses aren’t really at all suitable.”

“I can see that might be a problem,” said Nathan. “Hard to guarantee availability of course, and then there‘s the issue of, err, quality shall we say?”

“Exactly,” said Jackson.

“Difficult problem to resolve,” said Nathan, drawing out his enjoyment of the situation.

Jackson continued to ponder his coffee cup.

“If our course and the country club weren’t nearly an hour’s drive away,” continued Nathan at last, “I suppose you could ask my dad if he’d be willing to let the college have access to it. Assuming of course it meets the requirement for prestige…”

“Why, what an excellent idea, Nathan,” said Jackson, seemingly surprised he hadn’t thought of it himself. “I don’t suppose the drive time would matter too much if another school was visiting, it would be no different to them coming here. In fact, it’s a little closer to Pittsburgh than we are so it would actually be even more convenient.”

“I doubt dad would be able to agree to the college team using the course at weekends though, that’s the busiest time and we do, of course, have to make money. But I suppose with sports day being on a Wednesday afternoon he might be able to do something mid-week. Perhaps even roll in a small club membership to the other facilities such as the dining room so the players don’t have to dash back here for the evening meal. Avoid that drive at rush hour…”

“Do you think your father might be prepared to consider it?” asked Jackson. “I’m sure it would mean a great deal to Shane and some of the other players if they were able to resurrect the club properly.”

“Why don’t you ask pops yourself?” suggested Nathan. “We’re playing a round of golf with General Armstrong and a colleague of his the Sunday morning after Thanksgiving. I know you don’t play golf yourself, but perhaps you might like to join us for lunch at the club at least. You could float the idea with pops and let him think about it. In any case, you might like to meet General Armstrong. I understand he is on the Board of Visitors who oversee standards at West Point, so you might have something to talk about. Obviously, I know it’s short notice so you may have other plans…”

Jackson smiled. “I’m sure I could make myself available. The Sunday after Thanksgiving, you say? I’ll double check my diary after dinner but yes, in principle, let’s say I’d be happy to join you and your father for lunch.”

Nathan put down his glass of water and smiled. “Will you excuse me, Captain? I can see Sergeant Quinn just coming into view leading the Harrisburg Hawks through the Rose Garden so I really ought to go and wait by the door to receive them. As he’s their senior, I’ll bring Tom Brady over and re-introduce him to you.”

* * *

Dinner seemed to go well, with the Hawks clearly impressed by the food and the hospitality being shown by cadets. Once the meal was over the cadets either retired to their dorms or continued to socialise in the ante room. All the polo team remained, as expected, in order to ensure the Hawks weren’t left feeling out of place. Nathan noted with satisfaction that Tom Brady and Jackson seemed to be getting on like a house on fire: Jackson could have retired after dinner leaving Nathan to host the Hawks but seemed quite content to stay and play his part. Then again, if Tom was one of the Brady banking dynasty a little cultivation wouldn’t necessarily go amiss. Political campaigns need good funding.

Excusing himself for a moment in order to go and refill his glass, Nathan spotted Travis and Shane just about to leave the ante room. “Evening gentlemen,” Nathan said quietly as he stepped up behind them, “And what are you two up to?”

“Nothing Nat, honest,” replied Travis immediately. “We’re doing nothing.”

“Definitely nothing,” confirmed Shane hurriedly.

“Wrong answer, boys,” Nathan grinned, “In that case I’ve found something for you pair to do. Sergeant Quinn has found himself unexpectedly on fire picket duty tonight over in the Old Pavilion, making sure the fireflies don’t bother our visitors. I’m sure that the pair of you, following our discussion on why you shouldn’t seek to humiliate a fellow cadet, might feel it in order to go over there and offer to share that duty with him? Say a couple of hours each? Quinn’s over in the corner. I’m sure you can go and make your own arrangements with him.”

* * *

Shane forced his eyes open and struggled to focus on the Timex on his wrist. It was a quarter to four. He’d just have time to dress quickly and dash over to the Old Pavilion to relieve Travis for the last two hours of fire watch and then hand back to Quinn. When the Duty Officer Cadet did his early morning rounds he’d find nothing out of order to report to Jayden. Quietly, Shane slipped on his uniform and grabbed his boots before gently moving the wastebasket aside and sliding out through the door into the corridor. He glanced at his watch again as he silently padded towards the stairs, making sure not to let the fire doors clang shut behind him. Once on the stairs he sat down, slipped on his boots and began to lace them up.

Somewhere, several flight of stairs above him, a door opened and shut and a couple of voices drifted down towards him. It sounded like it was originating from Heaven – the term used for the officer cadets’ floor at the very top of the accommodation bloc. Shane froze as the voices, and then footsteps, drew nearer. A few moments later a shadow rounded the corner and Jackson hove into view, his arm around the shoulder of Tom Brady. The two of them stopped dead in their tracks as they saw Shane.

Jackson was the first to regain his composure.

“Good morning, Cadet Lundgren.”

“Er, morning, Sir,” said Shane. “I was, er, just lacing up my boots. Out here, quietly, so I don’t disturb anybody. I’m on fire picket duty soon over at the Pavilion.”

Brady was smirking as he sauntered slowly past Shane and continued down the stairs but Jackson was looking calm.

“Good. You can save me a task, Lundgren. Mr Brady here was lost and needed showing back to the visitors’ accommodation. I’m sure I can rely on your discretion. No need to embarrass our visitor by telling anyone I found him wandering around…”

“Er, no, of course not. I mean, yes. That is, I’ll not say anything.”

“Okay, run along Cadet, I wouldn’t want you to be late for duty. Catch up with Mr Brady, see he doesn’t get lost again.”

Jackson turned and headed back up the stairs leaving Shane to hurriedly tie off his laces and scurry after Brady. He soon caught up with Tom and led him towards the pavilion in silence. As they arrived and Shane quietly opened the door, he was pounced upon by Travis who emerged from the gloom of the side office.

“You’re nearly a minute late, Shane. I though I was going to have to come and wake you up.” Travis paused for a second when he spotted Shane wasn’t alone. “Who the fuck’s this?”

Brady smiled and winked. “Oh, I think I’m just another of the Captain’s Lost Boys.”

As Travis and Shane exchanged stares, Brady confidently wandered towards the stairs up to the dormitories, looked back over his shoulder and smiled again. “Yes, definitely a Lost Boy.”

* * *