The Vicar's Wife and the Blue Eyed Boy (standard:drama, 2879 words)
Author: Sue Simpson (Sooz)	Added: Feb 21 2003	Views/Reads: 5761/2902	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Not as it would seem

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story


Mary said “ta-daaa,” and spread her arms wide to display the latest
creature in her pack.  There was no denying the existence of it any 
longer. But in truth I was at a loss as to what to say. 

Crouching by the door and wearing very little was a man, well more of a
boy really. His hair was long and matted. It didn't look as though he'd 
washed it for years and it hung in rat-tails to below his shoulders. He 
wore a pair of tatty denim shorts cut from jeans just above the knee, 
and in this weather too.  He had a dirty yellow T-shirt and a pair of 
slashed trainers, but no socks. Perhaps the most remarkable thing about 
this ‘thing' sitting on his haunches on Mary's floor was his eyes.  
They were the brightest blue I had ever seen in a fellow human being. 
They darted from side to side as he tracked even the smallest movement 
in the room. 

“Hello,” I said hesitantly. After all if he was a guest in Mary's home,
then I had no right to question the validity of this. “Nice to meet 
you.” 

“Oh, he doesn't speak dear,” said Mary delightedly. “He's a wolf boy.” 

“He's a what?” I asked with a derisive laugh forgetting for a moment the
manners that Mary so admired in a reformed care urchin. 

“The Lord told me in a dream, he's a wolf boy dear, he's been roaming
the fells all these years and living of the land with his pack.  Well 
the Lord didn't tell me that bit exactly, I worked that out for 
myself.” It had to be said she did look very pleased with herself. “So 
you see he's been sent here for me to look after and rehabilitate.” 

“Mary,” I said aghast, “you can't keep him. I mean, he must belong to
somebody, he, he, well,” I lowered my voice to whisper but the lad must 
have been able to hear “He might hurt you. The man obviously has mental 
health issues. You have to call the authorities.” 

“Oh he won't hurt me dear, he's very gentle. And anyway, I have called
the authorities, I called the police but you didn't want to speak to 
them did you Stephen dear?” The man ignored her and continued staring 
wildly ahead. 

“How do you know he's called Stephen?” 

“We chose it didn't we dear?” again Stephen ignored her when she spoke
to him, even though she made encouraging clicking noises with her 
tongue.  “I was going to call him Mowgli, but he didn't seem to like 
that, so we settled on Stephen after St. Stephen, he was a gentle soul 
too. I don't think he was ever raised by wolves though.” 

“You say you called the police? What did they say?” 

“Well do you know dear it's the oddest thing. Three times they came to
see Stephen, but every time I let them in Stephen disappeared, so I 
don't think he wants to see them, he's very shy you see. I don't think 
the nice policeman believed the Lord has sent me a wolf boy to love.” 

I bet he doesn't, I thought and I glared at the crouching man, he sized
me up and grunted at me in obvious disdain, I was not a worthy 
adversary it seemed. He shuffled a few feet to the left and taking his 
eyes off the room for the first time sunk his head into a water dish 
that Mary had placed there and lapped at the water like a dog. 

“Mary, you have got to get this man some help, he could be dangerous.” 

“Oh nonsense, Stephen and I are good friends, he won't hurt me. Now then
Tea, Yes I'll get us some tea.  Stephen had better stick with his 
water, he's not very good with china tea cups are you dear?” I followed 
Mary's eyes to the waste bin that was chock full of various bits of 
broken crockery.” 

She pottered off in her element, leaving me with various animals and the
strange young man. 

Having left his water his eyes narrowed and we stared at each other in
open hostility each of us weighing the other up with neither of us 
observing the usual rules of polite society. 

I decided that while Mary was out of the room, I was going to ring the
police and demand they come and remove this strange person. And that's 
when he gave himself away. 

We had been staring at each other, his brow wrinkled slightly in an
expression of doleful puzzlement.  I must have subconsciously glanced 
over at the telephone because, suddenly his face took on a sly 
expression, his eyes also went to the phone. He had blown his cover.  
This was no feral wolf boy, he knew exactly what was going through my 
mind. 

“Right you, before I ring the police and have you arrested, lets have
our cards on the table eh? You might fool Mary, but you're not as 
clever as you think matey. So come on you've got three seconds to tell 
me what you're doing here.” 

He shrugged his shoulders with an air of belligerence, and then gave up
the act of the cornered wild animal. He sat on the floor, swept his 
long hair away from his face, and crossed his legs in front of him.  
Just this change of posture changed wolfboy into scruffy chancer. 

“Okay, okay I admit it I broke in to rob the old Bat. She caught me and
gave it loads with all this ‘You've been sent to me from God' lark. I 
saw my chance didn't I? And so I took it. She started fussing round 
making bloody tea before I had the chance to say a word. All the time 
she's talking to the freakin` animals as though she's Doctor Freakin 
Doolittle, and the idea of the wolf boy thing just came to me. After 
I'd flung my head back and howled a couple of times she caught on and 
made the story up herself.” He grinned sheepishly and I went to lift 
the phone from its cradle. 

“Wait, hear me out before you do that.” It wasn't an order and after
he'd added a “please” in a small voice, it became a very polite 
request.  To this day I don't know why I didn't make that call then. I 
suppose with the big blue eyes and sheepish grin he had a charm about 
him. 

“Listen, I know I came here up to no good, but I like Mary. Look at this
place for Chrissake, it's a mess. I just thought that if I could stay 
for awhile I could earn my keep.” 

“You thought that by drinking out of a dog bowl and breaking all her
best china you were earning your keep?” I made no attempt to soften the 
sarcasm or hard edge to my voice. This con man had taken Mary for a 
fool, amazing eyes or no, he wasn't about to do the same to me. 

“Oh I was going to give the old lass a few days to ‘tame' me. What harm
could it do to humour her a bit?  Do you know how easy it was to break 
in here? The door virtually opened itself to me. Look I'm not asking to 
stay now. I'm well busted as they say and if you want to ring the cops 
then fine. I did wrong and I expect I deserve it. But I was going to do 
all the odd jobs that need doing round here in exchange for a couple of 
weeks bed and board. I've got nowhere to go and no money.” 

The ludicrous suggestion was starting to make sense, in a minute he'd
have me emptying all Mary's silverware into a swag bag for him, if he 
said he'd kindly take it to the tip for her. 

With new resolve I went to pick up the telephone. At that second it
started to ring. From somewhere down the hall Mary's voice came to us 
with a muffled “Hello” 

Elsie Granger-Smith chose that moment to play a trump fate card in
Stephen and Mary's future.  If she hadn't Rung to beg some of Mary's 
pickled preserves for the WI fete, I'd have rung the police and it 
would all have been out of our hands. 

“Oh just get out,” I said to him. “Leave by the patio doors and I'll say
you got frightened when you heard the phone and I had to let you out. 
But I warn you, come sniffing round here and preying on the good nature 
of Mary again and I'll have you arrested before you can say big hairy 
werewolf.” He was going to go too but for the fact that Mary came back 
in with tea and cakes for us and a juicy piece of raw steak for 
Stephen. “It's what he's used to dear,” she said while Stephen pulled a 
face over her head. 

Mary had a light in her eyes that went out on the day of Edward's death.
I couldn't say anything to darken her world again. Who knows maybe the 
Lord did send the scruffy man to her.  I tried to find another excuse 
to send Mary out of the room again, but she was stuck fast to her 
armchair for the duration of our afternoon gossip. When I had to leave, 
I glared at Stephen. Hell I didn't even know what his real name was. He 
smiled at me and gave me thumbs up sign while Mary fussed with her 
knitting. An insanity bolt must have struck me, but I found myself 
trusting him.  “You look after our Mary now,” I said as I left with as 
much menace as I could get passed Mary in my voice. 

Stephen was as good as his word. He ‘was a very fast learner' and Mary
even managed to teach him a few simple sentences within a week. Once he 
got the hang of a little English there was no stopping that ole 
wolfboy, he picked it up as though he'd spoken it all his life.  And 
then he fixed locks and mended shelves. It seemed there was nothing 
that Gary couldn't do. He persuaded Mary one day that he'd like to pick 
his own name, he had a vague recollection he said of being called Gary 
once.  He painted and papered,  plumbed and gardened. He was a good 
worker and more than paid his way. 

Soon it seemed that Gary was home to stay. He found work in a timber
yard and made an honest living each night coming home to a freshly made 
meal from Mary. He begged me one day to have a word with her about the 
gaudy jumpers that Mary gaily knit for him and he felt obligated to 
wear, and I had to admit that life before Gary was a grey place to be 
compared to life after. Mr Phipps the goat had his own picket fence 
enclosure at one end of the pretty garden. As each component of the 
family livestock reached the end of its days Mary shed a little tear 
for it and Gary duly buried it in the garden with all its little 
friends. Strangely Mary didn't feel the need to replace it with another 
pet anymore. 

But that was after Gary fell in love. He met Louise in the garden centre
one day. She advised Gary on which lobelia he should buy. It was after 
they married and gave Mary a granddaughter that the animal adoption 
agency stopped. Gary's mad jumpers stopped about that time too, Mary 
was far too busy knitting cardigans for little Rose-Mary.  The vicarage 
finally had what it had been lacking all these years, a child to make 
it live. 

Oh you expected a horror story did you? I can see by your faces you
aren't impressed. Well it was all a long time ago now, my memory is not 
what it used to be. Maybe it is a horror story. Maybe Stephen crept up 
the stairs that night after I didn't called the police. Maybe he beat 
Mary to death with her good nature and kindness.  Maybe I just make up 
nice stories to tell you kids when I come to feed the ducks because I 
can't live with myself for not stopping it when I had the chance.  
You'll never know will you? So run along home now, your mother's will 
be waiting for you.  Old Jenny has to be back at Twilight Haven in time 
for tea. If they know I've got out again they'll only give me the awful 
sleeping pills through the day as well as at night. Goodbye Kids ...see 
you tomorrow? 


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