A New World Begins

The clock ticks down…

By the time Shane emerged from the bathroom I had already changed for dinner.

“Wow, Boots, you look smart, but what’s the occasion?” he said with eyes as wide as dinner plates.

“Dinner with Kyle’s parents, Shane. Your foster parents,” I replied as he smiled and continued to take in my dinner jacket. It does look good on me, even if I say so myself. Definitely money well spent, and it didn’t even need adjusting to fit me.

“I’m just going like this, Boots. We don’t dress for dinner. Just your ordinary trousers and a sweater would be fine.”

“But this is a posh hotel, Shane, and your foster parents are important people, and it’s the first time I’ve met them, and…”

Shane was trying hard not to laugh. “But we’re Americans, Boots. Smart casual is fine. Honestly…”

Before I could respond there was a knock at the interconnecting door, then Lee eased it open and stuck his head round it. “Kyle, come look. Shane’s caught himself a penguin…”

That did make Shane laugh, Kyle too when he burst through the door and into our room with Lee. Both of them were dressed just like Shane – smart casual trousers with a sweater. Well, that settled it for me: I was definitely not getting changed back into casuals again. As dad says, it’s better to be over-dressed than under-dressed on special occasions and the Colonials need a reminder occasionally.

Once they had calmed down and run out of penguin jokes, Kyle led the way out of the room and along the corridor to the lift. He had to insert his plastic room key into the control panel before it would recognise his button press to take it up a floor to the suites above. He smiled. “Security can be a pain in the butt at times, Boots.”

We stepped out of the lift and into a lobby area decorated with paintings and a couple of vases on plinths. Lee stepped back and pushed Shane up alongside Kyle, then stood alongside me as Kyle opened the door into the suite and led the way in.

“Hi pops, mom,” said Kyle. “We’re here.” Shane and Lee slipped by him and stood to the side as Kyle turned and introduced me. “This is Pingu, no sorry, I mean Craig. We call him Boots though. Craig, this is my pop, Edward, and my mom, Mary.”

Mr Masters, a tall, imposing man with short, almost buzz cut, blond hair, stepped forward to shake my hand. The family resemblance with Kyle was obvious. “Pleased to meet you, Craig. I’ve heard a great deal about you. I can’t wait to hear how you got the name ’Boots’. And I would have thought ‘Tux’ a better name than ‘Pingu’,” he smiled at Kyle.

“I’m Mary,” said Mrs Masters, as she stepped forward. She had a really sweet smile. “Shane and Kyle were very keen to have you visit us, I do hope you’ll enjoy the next few days. And you look very smart indeed.”

“Thank you, Mrs Masters.” I replied.

“Mary, do call us Mary and Edward. We’re not formal here, isn’t that right, Ed?”

“It sure is, Mary. Mary and Ed will do just fine, Boots.”

Americans definitely are very informal. I wouldn’t dream of calling any of my mom and dad’s friends by their Christian names. Well, adults in general really. It’s always Mr or Mrs Smith, at least until I turn eighteen. Even with friends at school we tend to call each other by surnames. Everybody knows me as Wright or Wrighty. Or Wrong when they want to be an arse. It took a while for me to get into the habit of calling Shane just Shane, not Lundgren, Noah just Noah and not Mason, well, you get the picture. Something else Americans don’t get. Humour. Like how I call my mate Paul Sainsbury “Tesco”. Or why everyone calls Major Scott “Paddy”.

Mr Masters waved me towards the sofa and armchairs where Kyle, Lee and Shane were already sitting down. It was good to see that Shane looked comfortable around Mr and Mrs Masters. I hope they do go through with formally adopting him if he agrees to it. Lee was being treated just as one of the family too.

“I hope you boys had a great afternoon sight-seeing. I’m sorry we couldn’t join you but something cropped up and Ed and I had to pop over to the Embassy. It’s all sorted now, so we won’t have to desert you again. You can tell us all about your day over dinner. We were going to eat out on the terrace but it’s started to drizzle a little so we have arranged a table down in the restaurant.”

Kyle stood up and joined his dad at a small cabinet, taking out some glasses as Mr Masters reached into a chiller and opened a bottle of what looked like champagne. At least he didn’t shake it up and spray it round the room.  Kyle passed a glass round to everyone and then stood by his dad’s side as Mr Masters turned to face us all and spoke.

“This is a very special occasion for me and Mary,” he said. “As we look to start a New Year in a few days’ time, we also look to welcome two new members into our family. So, I’d like to propose a toast to a new beginning and, especially, to Lee and Shane.”

“Lee and Shane,” I said, raising my glass in concert with Mrs Masters and smirking. I don’t think Lee or Shane enjoyed the champagne half as much as they liked the beer earlier. I mean, champagne is okay, but there’s a reason it’s served in tiny glasses rather than in a proper pint pot.

“Before we go down for dinner, I’d like to give Shane something,” I said. “Well, it’s really for everyone, but it’s in Shane’s name. My dad arranged it as a ‘Thank you’ for inviting me to stay with you.”

I reached into my pocket and took out the small envelope SSM Langton, now Yeoman Warder Langton, had given me earlier and passed it to Shane. As everyone looked on curiously, Shane opened the envelope and took out a small piece of printed card. It wasn’t flashy, just a plain, pale brown card with some text printed on it. Shane looked as though he could hardly believe his eyes as he read out the words.

“HM Tower of London. Ceremony of the Keys. Permission is given for Shane Lundgren and five guests to witness the Ceremony of the Keys on 31st December. Assembly point, main Entrance, HM Tower of London, 21:30.”

Shane turned the card over in his hands. “Is this real, Boots?”

“Yes, Shane. One of my dad’s old Sergeants-Major is now a Yeoman at the Tower. That was him you saw talking to me this afternoon.”

“What does the back of the card say, Shane?” asked Kyle incredulously.

“It says we have to be on time. And we can’t take photos. Or take phones in with us.”

“It’s the ceremony where they lock up the Tower for the night to keep the Queen’s jewels and the State Regalia safe,” I explained. “It’s been going for over 700 years without a single stop. Well, it got delayed for a few minutes one night back in World War Two when a bomb in the Blitz blew up and injured some of the warders, but they carried on anyway. The Constable of the Tower had to go and apologise to King George though for not locking the door on time. I think he got let off. The reason you can’t take photos or phones is because it’s not a ceremony for tourists. It’s the point at which the doors are locked and the army takes up position all night to guard the Tower. I mean, they have laser beams and burglar alarms and all that sort of stuff too, but ultimately the army are there to stick a bayonet in anybody that tries to steal the Crown Jewels or harm the Queen’s Ravens. So, they don’t want anybody making notes on how many troops are inside or where they go or what equipment they have.”

Shane passed the card to Mr Masters to look at. He glanced at it and passed it to Mrs Masters. “Goodness, Craig, this is most generous. Boys, the only other person I know to be invited to the Tower for this ceremony was one of our previous Ambassadors, almost ten years ago.”

“I’m sorry it’s short notice, Mr Masters,” I said, “And I hope it doesn’t clash with anything else you had planned for tomorrow night. What with it being New Years’ Eve. Dad will understand if you can’t go.”

Mr and Mrs Masters exchanged glances. “Boots,” said Mr Masters, “We wouldn’t miss this for anything. I don’t know how to thank you and your father enough.”

“You invited me here to stay with Shane and Kyle for a few days. That’s enough.”

* * *

After finishing our glasses of champagne, we all went down to the restaurant for dinner. It turned out that there was a second restaurant that was used for dinner: William’s Bistro where I’d met Kyle, Lee and Shane earlier in the day was a just for use at breakfast and lunch. The main restaurant was still quite small with only about a dozen other people in it when we arrived. Most people we dressed casually, but a couple were wearing jackets and ties. I was definitely the best dressed in there.

We were quickly seated at a table with a crisp linen tablecloth, crystal glasses and real silver cutlery. The table was in an alcove to one end of the dining room, decorated with Oriental style silk hangings on the walls and a few of those weird Cubist style Picasso portraits where the people look like they’ve all been chopped up and rearranged. Sort of unfinished Rubik cube portraits.

Mr Masters sat at the head of the table with Mrs Masters facing him at the other end, then me and Shane were on one side and Lee and Kyle on the other. As soon as we were seated Mr Masters ordered two bottles of bottle of wine for us, one red and one white. They sounded posh but I have no idea what they were, the labels were facing away from where I was sitting.

The waiter came round and poured us each a half glass of wine as we looked at the menu cards he’d previously handed out. I asked for the red wine, as did Lee, but everyone else tried the white. Shane tasted his wine and nodded when Mr Masters asked if it was okay, then smiled. “I had some shandy beer today when we went to a pub for lunch. Kyle said it was okay. I liked that even more.”

Mr Masters smiled. “Yes, tell us more about your sight-seeing. And if you would prefer shandy with your dinner, I’m sure that can be arranged.” He glanced up at the waiter who was hovering nearby.

“But of course, Sir, if the young gentleman would prefer a glass of shandy I’ll bring it right away. Will it just be the one glass?”

Lee exchanged glances with Kyle and then looked at Mr Masters. “Ed, would it be okay if I hadda beer? Boots showed us some proper English beer.”

Both Mr and Mrs Masters smiled and nodded. “Sure it is, Lee, a good English beer is excellent for accompanying a main course. It’s probably what King Henry the Eighth would recommend. What beer was it, Boots?”

“Oh, Kyle had some Theakston’s Old Peculier. Just a shandy for Shane though,” I added quickly.

“I’m sure we can provide some good English bitter for those who want it, in time to accompany the main course,” said the waiter as he jotted something down in his little notepad. “I’ll just go and arrange something and then come back to take your orders.” It’s definitely one of those hotels where everything is available if you ask for it. I had a vision of the waiter disappearing into the kitchens and sending an errand boy out with a silver tray to the nearest decent pub with instructions to bring back a few pints of bitter.

During the first course, Shane and Kyle were enthusiastically telling their parents about our day, with me and Lee adding bits in here and there. My first course was a lobster tail served on a bed of sliced cauliflower and decorated with scallops. It was only a small portion but it was perfectly cooked. I know you should have white wine with fish but I still had my red wine left and that went with it well enough. The food was shaping up to be even better than we got back at Allegheny. Mrs Masters, Mary, had the same starter as me, but everyone else had pâté Foie Gras with a pear and ginger sauce. I wonder what lobster would taste like with a pear and ginger sauce? If we eat here again tomorrow night, I might ask if I can try it. It’s definitely the sort of place where I’m sure they’d serve it if I asked for it.

“So, Boots,” said Mr Masters, looking at me as we waited for the next course to arrive, “It seems that tomorrow we have an excellent guide on our hands for more sight-seeing. The boys are very keen to go on the London Eye, and I’m sure Mary and I’d enjoy that too. What else would you recommend?”

“Well, it’s about five years since I lived here, but I don’t think it’s changed much. If the weather is fine, maybe we could start out on the London Eye, then head off along the river bank upstream to Lambeth Palace where the Archbishop of Canterbury lives. Well, when he isn’t in Canterbury that is. Then we could catch the boat that goes up as far as Vauxhall Bridge to look at the Puzzle Palace – that’s the secret service headquarters, Shane, where James Bond lives – then it turns round to go back downstream past the Houses of Parliament and Big Ben, past HMS Belfast and maybe stop off at the Globe Theatre and see if Shakespeare is at home. There’s lots of other stuff to do. Maybe go and see the sailing ship, Cutty Sark, down at Greenwich. Then come back and have something to eat before going to the Tower of London to watch them lock up.”

“I’d definitely love to see where James Bond comes from,” said Shane. “I remember that bit in the film where he goes down the river in a speedboat. That would be awesome for us to do. But we can’t be late for the Tower of London. It says so on the card.”

“That sounds a great plan, Boots,” said Mr Masters. “Let’s use it as the basic outline for tomorrow and adapt accordingly. Now, it looks like our next course is arriving.”

As the original plan had been to eat on the roof terrace, which was heated but apparently not waterproof, the menu had been chosen in advance by Mrs Masters with the exception of the starter and final desert. Everyone had agreed to stick with the pre-arranged courses even now we were in the restaurant, which turned out to be a brilliant idea. As one waiter filled all our glasses with a second bottle of white wine, two others served us pan fried turbot with braised leeks in a creamy sauce. The portions were quite small again but bloody well cooked. Lee made us all laugh when he took a tentative first forkful and then, after deciding he liked it, said, “Normally I just go for rib-eye and fries, but I could get used to this alien food, Oregon.”

Nobody said much as we ate the turbot, it was just too good to risk letting it go cold. Once we’d all finished and were sipping our wine waiting for the next course, Mrs Masters smiled at Lee and asked, “If Craig’s nick-name is ‘Boots’, why do you call him ‘Oregon’, Lee?” causing Kyle and Shane to burst out laughing.

“Oh, it’s a long story, mom,” chuckled Kyle.

“Boots is an alien,” said Lee, “And everybody knows that aliens are most usually seen in Oregon.”

Everybody was still laughing and talking about flying saucers when the main waiter arrived with a tray of pint glasses and some bottled beer. They’d actually got us some Old Peculier! They really must have sent the errand boy out! The waiter placed a pint glass in front of Shane and half-filled it from a carafe of lemonade, then lifted it and expertly topped it up from one of the beer bottles, angling it and letting the beer flow down the side of the glass so as not to make it fizz over.

“A pint of shandy for you, Sir,” he said to Shane, placing the glass, and then the carafe of remaining lemonade and half bottle of beer, on the table near him.

“Now, Sir,” he said, turning to Lee, “A pint of bitter for you, I believe?”

Lee nodded enthusiastically as Kyle and Mr Masters exchanged glances and appeared to be counting the remaining bottles of beer.

“Kyle?”

“Definitely, pops.”

The waiter smiled and poured the last two bottles of bitter into glasses, giving one each to Kyle and Mr Masters before disappearing towards the kitchens.

“Sorry Boots,” sniggered Kyle, “But you’ll have to make do with the wine. Beer just doesn’t cut it with a tuxedo.”

“The name’s Bond, Oregon Bond,” added Lee, “Shaken and very stirred by the look of him.” Okay, so even I had to laugh at that. Lee has a great sense of humour at times.

Mr Masters took a sip of the bitter and licked his lips. “Great score, Boots. I’d almost forgotten how good English beer tastes. Maybe we should try and take in a visit to that pub you mentioned tomorrow. What was it again?”

“The Captain Kidd,” said Kyle, savouring his pint.

“At Execution Dock,” said Shane. “It does the best shandy in London,” bringing a smile to Mrs Masters’ face.

I poured Mrs Masters a glass of red wine, then topped up my glass just in time for the return of the waiters, who were accompanied this time by a chef pushing a silver trolley. A proper chef, with a white jacket and checked trousers. As the waiters placed dishes of vegetables on the table, the chef moved the trolley up to the table and lifted a large silver lid from it. The first thing to hit us all was the aroma of roast meat. We must have looked like one of those cartoons where Wile E Coyote starts salivating when he sees his dinner. On a large, dished, wooden chopping board at the centre of the trolley was a succulent saddle of venison, glistening in some hind of sauce.

One of the waiters placed a gold-rimmed plate in front of Mrs Masters and the chef expertly cut several slices of venison from the joint and deftly placed them on her plate before wheeling the trolley to the other end of the table and serving Mr Masters. I don’t think the chef realised just how close he came to being pounced on by four wolves as me, Kyle, Lee and Shane waited our turn to be served. There was then an agonising wait as all four of us held back for Mr and Mrs Masters to add vegetables to their plates before we too dived in to grab spoonsful of potatoes dauphinoise, carrots julienne, steamed broccoli and roasted shallots. Finally, the chef came to each of us in turn and added a delicious smelling sauce from a silver boat to each plate before stepping back and wishing us ‘bon appetite’.

“Ouch,” gasped Kyle as I gave him a sharp tap on the shin under the table the instant he grabbed his eating irons.

Mrs Masters burst out laughing as she picked up her knife and fork. “Thank you, Boots,” guessing it was me that had kicked him, “It’s nice someone is willing to remind my son of his manners. Now, do all tuck in before you starve, you’re making me feel like Daniel in the lions’ den.”

“You were lucky,” grinned Lee to Kyle, “My mom wouldda kicked me herself, and twice as hard.”

“So, Boots,” asked Mr Masters between forkfuls of venison, “How did you find America? I gather you were only there for a few months but I’m sure it was an adventure.”

“That’s more time than you spent home this year, pops,” grinned Kyle.

“I enjoyed it, mostly,” I replied. “It’s very different to England, and I was only there for one school semester, but I loved Allegheny College and I’ve made some great friends, especially Shane and the other guys in Kyle’s dorm. I think I got put in the best dorm in the school.”

Kyle smiled. “Thanks for the compliment, Boots. It’s going to be Nathan Bauer’s dorm though when the new semester starts, I’m moving out and leaving it totally in his hands. I think he’ll do well now he has no distractions.”

“I like Nathan,” said Shane. “He was a bit scary at first, but he’s not so bad when you get used to him.”

“Would that be one of the Pennsylvania Bauers?” asked Mr Masters.

“The very same, pops, his dad is currently Deputy Governor.”

“’Baby Governor’, I called him,” I added.

“We’re starting a golf club together,” said Shane. “He’s talked his dad into letting us use their Country Club as our base. I’m going to be the Hospitality Secretary. It’ll be my job to make sure visiting teams are well looked after.”

“That’s good,” said Mr Masters, “It’s nice to take on some responsibility and gain experience at organising things. It’ll stand you in good stead, Shane.”

“I’m going to have help,” said Shane. “Will is drawing up some spreadsheets for me, I’ll be able to keep track of invitations and scores and stuff like that, and Noah has offered to help me out with the budget.”

“Noah’s a quiet kid,” said Lee, “A bit weird. He doesn’t say much but he sits around watching and he’s nearly always drawing. We’ve got a picture he drew hanging up in the office at my dad’s garage. He just sat down one day when he came in with Kyle for some truck parts, picked up a scrap of paper and a ballpoint from the counter, and drew an amazing portrait of my dad.”

“We’re going to win the Military Skills competition too,” said Shane enthusiastically. “We didn’t have much clue about anything military at the start of semester but then Boots arrived and told us what we needed to do. You’re still helping us with that too, aren’t you Boots? Through the internet.”

I smiled and nodded as I finished the last of my venison and shallots. “Yes. I’m not much good at drawing or golf, but I can help out with the military stuff.  And Travis is good at outdoors stuff too, so between us we’ll cover all that off. He’s good at shooting too, isn’t he Shane?”

“Yes, he has a cowboy rifle and six-gun. He taught us how to use them when we visited him at Thanksgiving.”

“Well,” said Mr Masters, “It certainly sounds like you’re all getting on very well at Allegheny College. It’s definitely one of the best schools around and the friends you make there will be with you for life.”

By this time the plates had been cleared and the next course had started to arrive. I think even Travis would struggle to finish this much food, I can see why the portions are small for each course!

“What did you choose for your dessert, Boots?” asked Lee curiously as my next course appeared. “It certainly smells good!”

“It should be a baked pear, cored and stuffed with raisins and pineapple, glazed with a rum and vanilla sauce.”

“I can definitely smell the rum,” said Kyle.

The baked pear was delicious, with the raisins adding a sweetness and the pineapple a contrasting tartness to each bite. It’s definitely something else I am going to ask mum to have a go at making. I mean, it can’t be hard to mash up some pineapples and raisins and stuff them inside a pear can it? I might even have a go at it myself. All the best chefs are men in any case. I can do a baked pear.

Once the desserts had been finished and the plates cleared away, the cheeseboard and grapes arrived. I can normally put down a huge amount of Cheddar or Double Gloucester but I was pretty stuffed and so just had a couple of small crackers and a few cubes of cheese washed down with the last of the red wine in my glass. There was still some left in the bottle but I thought it best not to grab it

We all chatted for a while and then Mr Masters suggested that, as it was approaching ten and tomorrow was New Years’ Eve when we’d be up late anyway, and had a full day of sightseeing planned before that, we ought to have an early night. I was happy to go along with that: I was absolutely stuffed full of food and those three pints this afternoon had left me feeling quite mellow. After thanking Mr and Mrs Masters for an awesome dinner, I followed Shane up to our room.

When I came out of the bathroom and headed to my bed, Shane was already in his bed but sitting up and holding the ticket for the Tower of London in his hand.

“I can’t believe we’ve been invited to the Ceremony of the Keys,” he said. “And the ticket is actually in my name too. Do you think they’ll let me keep it as a souvenir? I’d love to show it to the guys in the dorm and tell them about it.”

“I’m sure they’ll let you keep the ticket, Shane,” I said. “I don’t think the ceremony is very long. They’re just locking up the doors after all, and they’ve had 700 years to practice getting it right.”

Shane smiled. “I guess so, Boots. Ed and Mary were saying that after we’ve seen the ceremony, we should go to Trafalgar Square at midnight and see the fireworks. I’d like that.”

“Yes, that will be a perfect end to the day. And to the year too. Especially for you, I guess, Shane. Ed and Mary seem like really nice people.”

“I think they are, Boots. Things have definitely started to go well for me. Last New Year I spent in a children’s home. All the staff there tried to make it nice, but it wasn’t the same as having a real family. Then Ed and Mary came to visit me at Easter when they found out about me, and Kyle too with them just after that, and then everything changed. I’ve got friends now, and somewhere safe to live.”