Date: Fri, 19 Sep 2008 13:34:46 EDT
From: Djedoric58@aol.com
Subject: THE BULL SINGER, CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

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THE BULL SINGER
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

We have learned about Pietro, Guglielm0 and Geuseppe but where is the third
triplet?


From chapter thirty one

I quickly told Daley what Joey and Pete had found out, but instead of Daley
looking pleased at the news, his face took on a grey hue as his eyes grew
wide with fright "Oh, God, no! Mags, you have to stop them."

Confused, I stared at him. "Why, should I stop them. It doesn't matter to
me if Joey decides he doesn't want to be my lover any more. I just want
them to find their brother and be happy. I mean, he's already lost one
brother. I can't stop him looking for this other one."

Daley shook his head at me. "I'm not on about you and Joey. If they try to
find Ricardo, they'll be killed."

*  *  *

Now read on

Every seat was occupied with people four deep around the sides and at the
back of the old theatre auditorium. Jenny's Prescot's diminutive height,
and the size of her lump, gained her a few kind invitations to push to the
front but that didn't ease the pain in her back and her baby kicking her at
the noise around her; the only thing keeping her on her feet being the
sight of the band on stage going into their second number, "I Wanna Be a
Rock Star". She feasted her eyes on the second lead singer and fell in love
with him for the thousandth time. She always fell in love with him every
time she saw him. A Billy Junior addict, Jenny still couldn't believe her
luck that her favourite local band had a look-alike of Billy D'Marco as one
of its singers. She loved every part of him, from his shoulder length raven
black hair to his sturdy denim clad dancer's legs. He didn't play drums but
he still made the grade as he alternated between keyboards and guitar as
the show progressed; the last one in this soon to be demolished theatre.

Apart from Ricky Monks, the band had no plans to turn professional so this
was also the last time the band would perform as a unit. They all had jobs
or universities to go t; Ricky had no such choice. Having left school at
fifteen after the death of his parents, Jenny's parents called him a
worthless drifter with no skills other than his musical talents. And that
was why she had run away from home, found the flat to let and invited Ricky
to share it with her. Everything had been okay till she found that her
landlord had sold the place to her parents. They allowed her to stay, but
made her sign a tenant's agreement and forced her to pay them a rent she
could hardly afford.

 One of the band spotted her and waved. She waved back and he nudged Ricky
Monks and pointed in her direction. Ricky smiled at her and she gave him a
shy smile back. She hoped he would have the time to speak to her at the
interval and not be mobbed by the adoring young fans who lined the
stage. One could hope. The baby kicked, and she thought of the freedom she
would enjoy in five days time when the little footballer would be born.

When the band left the stage and a DJ took over, Ricky appeared in the
auditorium and fought his way through his fans till he reached her with a
frown on his face. "Hi Jenny, why aren't you sitting down somewhere?"

"I was late getting here and all the seats were taken." She accepted his
kiss on the cheek.

"Well we'll see about this. Come with me." He put a supporting arm round
her waist and led her through the press of bodies till they reached the
stage. There, he used his charm to persuade a young man to stand and let
her use his seat, and she sat there for the rest of the gig, enjoying the
music, the band, and the interest of those around her as they saw her as a
link to those on stage, especially when Ricky Monks seemed to sing all his
romantic songs to her. If only they knew the real Ricky Monks, most of them
would soon back off. That thought made her think about the visitors who had
made her late for the show...

* *

Earlier that evening

She felt the baby move and instinct made her rub the area where a tiny heel
pushed out. She picked up her coat and bag, aware of the ache in her spine
increasing. Only a week to go and baby Monks would be free of the womb that
confined him, as he would be free to kick and punch as much as he
liked. "For now, baby Monks, please don't give me any trouble tonight. This
is the last night of the band's gigs and I'm determined to be there for
them if it's the last thing I do." As she walked to the door, someone
hammered on it. Jenny frowned; she wasn't expecting anyone to call,
especially someone who sounded like they wanted to batter down the
door. She glanced at her watch. If she delayed she would be too late to get
a seat and she didn't feel like standing all night. With a sigh of
annoyance, she opened the door and stared angrily at the couple who pushed
their way into the tiny flat. "What are you doing here?

"Doing our duty as your landlords."

"Dad! You can't come barging in here like this. You know you have to warn
me of a visit first. It's in the contract you so kindly presented to me."

"Nonsense." Her mother lifted her nose as she surveyed the state of the
flat. "We're your parents and have every right to visit. I see that freak
you call a boyfriend is not here. Out drinking with his mates I suppose?"

"No, as a matter of fact he's working, and he does not drink." Jenny
steeled herself to keep calm. The doctors had warned her to stay as calm as
possible and not send her blood pressure up. Shouting at Jim and Julie
Prescot never worked of course. They said a lot but didn't listen. They
were always right, and nobody counted in their middle class world. "And for
your information, I'm on my way to a concert. So please say what you want
to say and leave." She watched her mother wipe a finger long the
mantelpiece, and wished she had the courage to give her a slap. The flat
was only a glorified bed-sit – a living room with a drop down bed, and a
tiny kitchen and shower room - but she was proud of the way she and Ricky
kept it clean and tidy.

"You realise of course, that you are violating the conditions of the
tenancy?" Father pulled a long white envelope from an inner coat
pocket. "It says quite distinctly, no children. If you do you are guilty of
overcrowding and your baby will be taken into care."

While Jenny stared in shock at her father, her mother stuck her own knife
in. "We told you to get rid of that brat when you had the chance."

"Right, that's it." She pushed the door open wider and pointed to it. "Get
out now, before I call the police. I know my rights, and we'll see what
Social Services say about you making me homeless."

Her mother rewarded her with an icy smile. "I think not. You won't be
keeping that baby for long. We've already alerted the Social Services to a
possible child at risk situation. No doubt they will be calling on you soon
about an adoption."

Her father thrust the envelope at her. "This is a notice of termination of
your tenancy. You have two weeks to get out."

Jenny gasped. "You can't do this. You mean bastards! This is just to get at
Ricky, isn't it? You've never liked him."

"That queer freak? I'd like to have him gelded for what he did to you. Mind
you, the way you prefer him to us you're no better than him. You disgust
me, playing around with a child." Her father took her mother by the arm and
led her out of the flat with a parting shot. "There is no place in our home
or our lives for queer lovers."

*

"Jenny, are you all right?" She blinked and found the show over and Ricky
gazing down at her. He took hold of her hands and knelt down in front of
her. "Jen?"

She took a breath and smiled at him, seeing the concern in a pair of dark
eyes that gave her goose bumps just to look at them. "Yes, I...I was
thinking about something. I'm okay, really."


"Are you sure? I'll take you home if you want."

Jenny thought about the party about to start, to celebrate the life of the
theatre and it's history of being always willing to work for local
charities, it's owner being an aging philanthropist. "No, I'm okay, Ricky;
I wouldn't miss the party for anything. You can take me home later."

"Is that a date?"

"Yep."

"That's my girl!" Ricky smiled at her. "How's baby Monks doing?"

"Training hard to be a footballer."

"Aw! I thought he was going to be a dancer like his dad!"  Ricky hauled her
to her feet and slipped his arm round her waist, and led her backstage
where the band of friends of the theatre were gathered. A two-seater couch
had been kept for their use and, much to Jenny's embarrassment, she was
treated like royalty while Ricky sat beside her and took the brunt of the
teasing. Almost eighteen, he was the youngest in the band and the shortest
at five foot five, but the first to become a dad. But what had shocked the
band was the fact that Ricky had confessed to being gay, and no one ever
thought he would ever father a child.

In fact, Baby Monks was a surprise to everyone including his parents, the
result of one tipsy night after a similar party to this one, in which Jenny
had stupidly invited Ricky to cuddle up in bed with her on a particularly
cold night. One thing had led to another and they both had woken up,
embarrassed and wondering why they had done it. Before they live together,
Ricky had been in a so-so relationship with an older man, which had turned
rather nasty. Battered and bruised, Jenny had found him lying in the
doorway of her apartment block and had taken him in and nursed him back to
health and they had remained together ever since. Once he got used to the
idea of being a dad, he appeared to be pleased about the situation and
promised to look after her and their baby. He took any job available to
help pay the rent and put food on the table, including busking in the town
square. They just had to wait till he was eighteen before anyone would pay
him a decent living wage; then, at least, they could find a better place to
live and provide for the baby. So far he was living up to his promise and
Jenny was satisfied everything was going to be all right. Sod her
parents. They would find somewhere else or register with the council as
homeless.

The party was a mixture of happy and sad; happy for her and Ricky with
folks showering them with lots of baby stuff, and sad because the closing
of the theatre heralded the end of an era spanning seventy five years from
when Harold Briggs and his father bought the place and used it to foster an
interest in theatre, in the youth of the town. Harold was now in his
ninety-fifth year and in failing health, and the place was under a
compulsory purchase order to make way for a new trunk road. Halfway through
the party, Harold shuffled over to Ricky and asked him to sing and play for
them. At first Ricky refused, saying Jenny looked rather tired and he
wanted to take her home, but Jenny sided with Harold, and he sat down at
the keyboards to play and sing some of their favourites including Gloria
Estefan's `Don't Wanna Lose You' and Crowded House's `Don't Dream It's
Over'. Later on he had folks dancing when he sang Elton John's `Crocodile
Rock' then he declared that Jenny needed her rest, and they were bundled
into a taxi with all the baby gear. That night, when they cuddled in bed,
Ricky asked her a strange question. "Jen? I've never asked you, but are you
really sure you don't mind us not having sex too often? I mean, you're five
years older than me and must have had other lovers; don't you miss it?"

Jenny laughed softly and turned over as best she could to kiss him on the
nose. "Experience doesn't always come with age, kiddo. There was only one
before you and he was a creep I got rid off after a week. I love my toy boy
lover and I intend to keep him; as along as he stays faithful I want to
marry him, with or without the hang-ups."

Ricky stared at her, his eyes wide. "You want to marry me? Really? Oh My
God! I can't believe someone really wants me."

"Well of course someone wants you; I don't see any other man claiming to be
the dad of Baby Monks around here. And I don't care if sex with a woman
isn't up your street; I'm not all that hot and bothered about it as long as
we can sometimes get to together when it's time to make another baby. At
least our family will be well planned for in advance. Now come here and rub
my tummy; baby Monks wants some daddy time. You know he likes his daddy's
hands to calm him down." Soon, baby Monks ceased his lively tour of his
currant home and Jenny relaxed in Ricky's arms till they both fell asleep,
till Jenny woke up to find Ricky sitting up in bed, muttering softly to
himself.

"Ricky, what's wrong?"

"Nothing, I've had a strange dream, that's all."

"A nightmare?"

"No just a disturbing one."

Jenny sat up and eased the duvet up around them, and snuggled against
him. "Do you want to talk about it?" She felt him shrug his
shoulders. "Come on, Ricky, you'll sleep better for it. Tell me about it."

  Ricky reached out to switch the bedside lamp on and they settled back
under the duvet. Jenny made herself as comfortable as she could, allowing
Ricky's slender body to take the weight of her bump against his left
hip. She laid her head in the crook of his left arm and waited patiently,
knowing that he would eventually start talking without any encouragement
from her. "I'm talking to Billy Junior but he looks more like a mirror
image of me, and he's showing me an old black and white photograph of a
young couple holding three babies and an older toddler. They all look like
me, and Billy points to the picture and says, "They're coming soon." Then
there are two of me and we're on an old stage and we hug as if we know each
other. And when we start singing, my other me plays a keyboard and an older
version of us plays the drums while I play my guitar. Weird or what? What
makes it more of a puzzle is that now I'm sure I've seen that photograph
before somewhere, but I can't remember where. And how can that be if I've
dreamed it?" Ricky sighed and pulled Jenny into a close hug. "I wonder if
Harold knows about that photograph, after all he's a friend of the family
and I've known him for as long as I can remember. I used to go to his
theatre and sit on his knee, watching people rehearsing, and that's how I
came to love the stage. Mum and Dad encouraged it although I don't think
they realised how serious I was about it. Dad wanted me to follow him and
become a lawyer." Ricky chuckled. "Can you imagine me in pin-stripes and a
gown and wig. You've gone quiet; am I boring you?"

"No silly." Jenny punched him playfully on the chin. "This is something
you've never told me before. You never said how you became so talented,
considering you left school early and never attended Music College. Who
taught you music?"

"Myself, honey-bunch. If my folks came looking for me, they would always
find me either sitting on the piano stool with the currant pianist or
strumming a quarter size acoustic guitar Harold had made for me, and
jamming with the band. He used to spoil me rotten and I guess that's how I
became a wild child. Harold was the only one who could control me; the
Monks certainly couldn't, they were far too soft. When Mum and Dad died in
suspicious circumstances, Harold let me leave school and he home-schooled
me himself, well sort of, but in the subjects of my own choice – none of
your Science or Physics, or Chemistry stuff; just good, solid music, and
stage, with enough English, History and Maths, to keep the Education
Authorities off our backs. I might take my GCSE's a couple of years later
than everyone else but who cares. I'm having fun and that's what life is
all about; that and looking out for others not as fortunate."

"So why didn't you go to him for help when your lover beat you up and raped
you, and made you homeless?"

"I was too ashamed to go back to him in the state I was, and he still
doesn't know all the details of what happened, so please don't say anything
to him. He'd warned me about the guy but I wouldn't listen. Do you remember
the first time I took you to meet Harold at the theatre, and he took me
into his office for a chat? Boy what a chat that turned out to be. He made
me feel an inch tall, but he still loves me and told me I should have gone
straight back to him. He said ..." Ricky wrenched free of their embrace and
sat up, leaving Jenny trying not to fall off the other side of the four
foot wide bed. "Oh, Jeez! I've just remembered where that photograph
is. It's in a safe in Harold's office." Jenny reached for him but he swung
his legs out of bed and stood up. Ruffling his hair with both hands, he
switched the main light on and went over to the kitchen sink to fill a
glass with water.

 Jenny's heart went out to him, standing there in his jockeys and
silhouetted against the moonlight streaming in through the un-curtained
window while he drank the water; seeing the cute, vulnerable boy she had
first fallen in love with. She struggle out of bed, slipped on her dressing
gown and went to stand behind him. Putting her arms round his waist, she
leaned against him. "What are you going to do about it?"

"Go and see Harold, I suppose. He'll be at the theatre tomorrow to hand
over the keys. I'll go and meet him there in the morning."

"Do you want me to come with you?"

Ricky shook his head. "I think it's best if I see him alone. He might not
want to talk with anyone else around, if it's to do with my real parents."

"Your parents? How would he know them?"

Ricky turned within the circle of her arms and brought her into a warm
hug. "He must know them, else why would he have that photograph? John and
Irene Monks are definitely not the parents in the picture, and he was the
closest friend John and Irene had."

"You've never talked much about your parents. Were they good to you?"

"They were the best. We weren't too well off, but we loved each other like
crazy. My real parents couldn't have loved me more. They let me know early
on that I was adopted but said they loved me just as if I was their own
son. They also told me that when the time came for me to find out about my
real parents, they would talk to me about them and John promised to help me
find them. It was the way they said it, that I felt there was something
mysterious about them and they wanted me to be old enough to cope with the
knowledge. But they were killed before they could. Harold was ill at the
time and too upset about their deaths for me to ask him about them, and
somehow the time went by and I never had the chance. I know now, I should
have asked him straight away. I feel it's time to ask him now, before it's
too late, especially now I know where that picture is. It's strange, Jenny,
I've always and the feeling that part of me is missing, that I came from a
larger family."

"Perhaps you're a twin?" Jenny asked him. "You here stories about twins
being split up when they're adopted."

"Could be, but in that picture there were three babies and an older kid
about three years old."

Jenny laughed. "Triplets? Even more interesting! If that's correct, how
will you go about finding them?"

"Jenny, I haven't a clue." Ricky kissed the top of her head. "Right now I'd
rather get some sleep; it's getting cold in here." He moved to test the one
central heating radiator that provided the only heating in the flat.  He
frowned. "It's gone off, or someone's stitched it off and not switched it
back on again. Oh well, that means a trip downstairs." A stab of cold steel
gripped Jenny as he grabbed his bathrobe, stuffed his feet into his
trainers and unlocked the flat door.  She hadn't told him of her parents'
visit yet. It would be just like her father to leave them without
heating. She went to sit on the bed to wait for him, her mind full of worry
at the prospect of living in an ice-old top floor flat of an empty building
apart from themselves. "Well thank you, father dear," she thought. "You
certainly know how to twist the knife. Is this how you persuaded your other
tenants to move out so you can sell the place as vacant property and make a
bundle? You're covered by the six month tenancy law but what about us?"

Ricky's sudden return startled Jenny out of her thoughts; he pushed the
door closed and leaned his back against it. "The door to the basement is
closed with a padlock on it. What's going on, Jenny?" With a sinking heart,
she went to fetch the notice from her bag and handed it to him. Ricky
opened it and read it through several times before he screwed it up and
threw it in corner. "The bastard!"

"That's what I thought."

"He can't do this, Jen. It's against the law. Read your contract. Read your
tenants rights. A landlord has to provide hot water and heating. And our
washing machine and tumble dryer is down there with my pushbike. Harold
bought those and your dad has no right to lock them up. That's theft."

"He'll just say we had no right to use the basement for our stuff."

"Bullshit! We'll go to Harold in the morning and tell him what's going
on. He'll help us, I know he will." He took her hand and drew her to the
bed. "What we need now is to keep warm and get some sleep. Come on, little
mum; in your get." He lifted the duvet and helped her slip under it, then
slid in beside her. "Don't worry, Jen, we'll find somewhere else to live,
no problem." She moved willingly into his embrace, loving the way he always
cared about her needs, her comfort, and in his efforts to please came
across as an immature, sensitive boy. He was gay but no way was he
effeminate, just a likeable sweet talking kid willing to show that love
wasn't all about sex, which pleased them both. For them, there was more to
loving someone than what went on in bed. Jenny had never met such an
affectionate young man, and despite what her parents were doing and the
snide remarks from some of the band's so called friends about the
difference in their ages, she knew she had found her life mate. If God
meant them to have more babies, the opportunities would present themselves
without them forcing things. She snuggled closer and hugged him to her, and
let Baby Monks have the last word, or kick... Until the phone rang.

They both jerked awake and while Ricky dived out of bed to answer it, Jenny
grabbed for the alarm clock on the dresser. Three Thirty? Who could be
calling them at this time? "Hello? Yes? Hi Peggy, what's up?"

Jenny switched on the main light and watched Ricky's face harden with
shock. "What?...When? Okay, yeah, I'll be ready." Ricky put the phone down
and turned to face her with tear filled eyes. "It's Harold; he's had a
stoke and they've taken him to hospital."

*  *  *