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For The Love Of AliceChapter 1 free porn video
Summer 1984
I still vividly remember the summer my life changed. I was eight years old. It was a time when the sun always seemed to shine and every day promised the start of a great new adventure.
My name is Paul. I was the only child of an electrician father and a mother that had given up a promising career in accountancy to stay at home and look after us. We lived in a modest semi-detached property at the end of a cul-de-sac, allowing children to play in the street without fear of being struck by passing traffic.
Of the few kids that lived in the street, only one was similar in age to me. David had a reputation for being a bit of a tearaway. Whether tormenting a neighbour's dog, throwing stones without any thought for the possible consequence, or answering back rudely when berated by his elders, he always seemed to be in trouble for one reason or another. My parents were concerned that his influence would tempt me into transgression but, even at that early age, I maintained an unwavering perspective of right and wrong.
I supplemented my meagre pocket money by doing odd jobs, the most lucrative of which was cutting the front and rear lawns of an elderly neighbour, Mrs. Clarke. Her husband had died many years earlier and the frail old lady led an impoverished existence, with only her two cats for company.
David would sometimes taunt me as I pushed the manual lawnmower across the street to perform my chore, but as I brandished the fifty pence piece for my half hour of heavy labour, he never shied away from accepting a share of the sweets that I bought with the proceeds.
Mum called me over to her one day, a serious look upon her face.
"Mrs. Clarke's been taken into the hospital," she informed me.
"Oh," I replied, not picking up on the portentous tone in her voice.
"I'm going to visit her this afternoon. Can you sign her get well card?"
I scrawled my name across an available space, alongside those of several of the local residents. Even as the woman's last days passed by, I continued to tend to her garden and feed the cats, hoping for suitable remuneration once she finally returned home.
"I don't know why you're doing that," David teased as I returned from her house one afternoon. "She's not coming back."
"What do you mean?"
"My mum says she's on her last legs. It's only a matter of time before she snuffs it."
Death was not something that I had any real experience of. All my relatives were in good health and of an age that promised years of active life ahead of them. The thought that my neighbour had reached the end of her time was strangely disconcerting.
I was not particularly attached to the old woman. I performed my duties mainly because my parents expected it of me. The house always smelled musty, overlaid with that of indelible decay often associated with the elderly when no longer able to look after themselves properly. Dad was forever tinkering with her faltering electrics, attempting to coax another year of servitude without having to resort to a complete rewire. He provided his services gratis, doubtless hoping that his reward would come in a future life.
Two weeks later, Mum and Dad arranged for a relative to look after me as they dressed for the funeral. Mum felt that it was better that I stay at home, rather than subject me to the solemn occasion of the woman's passing. Several of the neighbours and Mrs. Clarke's elderly sister would attend the service at the crematorium, returning for a simple buffet at the house.
I watched the hearse pull up outside, noticing the coffin on prominent display in the rear. I tried to visualise her frail frame contained within, but it was difficult to associate what I saw with the knowledge that the person I'd known no longer existed.
My parents rode in the funeral car with the sister, having assisted her with all the funeral arrangements. Mum had spent most of the previous evening preparing a mountain of sandwiches for the mourners, covering them with a thin layer of film to keep them fresh.
The remainder of the neighbours followed in convoy, leaving me feeling slightly miffed at being excluded. I stared out of the window into the deserted street, eventually noticing David cycling up and down on his bicycle. I asked permission from my aunt to play outside, and then quickly joined him.
"The old bird's finally gone then," he stated.
"Yes. Have your folks gone to the funeral?"
"Nah. Dad's away with work and my mum's gone to a coffee morning with some friends."
"Oh."
"You'll be getting new neighbours soon."
"I guess so."
"Wonder what they'll be like. Hopefully they'll have some kids that we can play with."
I felt slightly guilty contemplating the issue, when the old woman was not even in the ground, or whatever they did with her at the crematorium.
"Knowing our luck, we'll get another load of grumpy bastards like the Hitchins," David mused.
The professional couple lived half way along the street and would emerge at the slightest provocation, complaining about the noise of plastic footballs bouncing in the road or the danger of damage to their precious cars. One night, several of the tyres mysteriously lost their air. David came under suspicion but no action was taken due to lack of evidence. I challenged him about it afterwards, but he remained coy.
The funeral cortege returned and Mum invited me to join them for something to eat. At the thought of free food, David tried to worm his way inside but Mum shooed him away.
"I can't believe how much money she left," the sister announced. "She's been living in abject poverty when all the time, there was over twenty five thousand pounds sitting in her savings account. I know Dennis, her husband, played around on the stock market but I never expected to find what I did."
My mind pondered the amount of unpaid jobs that I'd performed as she'd languished in hospital, but I was too polite to bring the matter up.
"I'm going to sell the house for what I can get," the woman continued. "It'll be a welcome bonus on top of what I've already inherited."
Dad nodded. "You might want to look at the electrics. They're bordering on dangerous. I can give you a decent quote."
"I'll leave that to the new owners," she replied. "At my age, I can't be bothered sorting it all out and the delays that would be involved. I just want a quick sale."
Dad muttered under his breath, obviously disappointed that after years of helping her sister, he wasn't even going to be compensated in the form of paid work.
My maintenance duties continued over the next few weeks, although this only involved mowing the lawns as the cats had been taken into the care of the RSPCA in order to be rehomed.
Occasionally, a car would draw up outside the house and the occupants would stand on the pavement, considering whether or not to invest in its purchase. The outside paintwork was beginning to peel after Dad had flicked a brush over it the previous autumn. He'd attempted to repair the worst of the rot but quickly decided that most of the woodwork was beyond salvation, having been neglected for so many years. An estate agent would show the more adventurous around, doubtless having his work cut out to dispose of a property in such poor condition.
Under the premise of riding my bike, I'd often cycle past the prospective owners, trying to take their measure. By sheer force of will, I'd attempt to influence their decision.
The middle-aged couple lingered outside long after the agent had shown them around, discussing the various virtues of the property. The woman was matronly with a slightly vacant expression, whilst her husband was ruddy of complexion and looked ready to explode at any instant.
"Dad says the electrics need doing and all the woodwork is completely rotten," I volunteered without being asked.
"Really," the man replied.
"How much would it cost to replace, George?" the woman asked.
"It's not the money, it's the time. I'm not sure I want the hassle. There're plenty of other properties on the market. I don't think I even want to waste our money on a survey on this one."
He nodded gratefully in my direction as they returned to the car and drove away. Flushed with success, I repeated my tactic on a number of occasions when the prospective purchaser didn't meet with my approval in some undefined fashion.
Sometimes, I needed to do nothing. One couple attended with their two teenage daughters. They both wore short denim skirts and t-shirts that barely concealed the shape of their adolescent breasts. I was still at an age when the attraction to the opposite sex had yet to become prevalent but something in their manner told me that they were definitely unsuitable.
"I'm not living here," one girl protested, her mouth chewing gum. "It smells like something's curled up and died in there."
"Did you see the bath?" her sister replied in disgust. "They should just pull the whole place down and start again."
Plastered with makeup, the girls' mother added her own condemnation and the hen-pecked father quickly acquiesced and ferried them away, much to my heartfelt relief.
Ten days later, a white van pulled up outside the house and stapled a sold notice upon the sale board. My heart fluttered as I wondered which of the various purchasers had decided to take the plunge. When I asked them, my parents could shed little light on the identity of the new owners.
"The last ones that I saw were a young couple with a baby," Mum advised. I moodily retreated to my room, praying fervently for anyone that would breathe fresh life into the street.
In typical David fashion, my friend claimed to have pertinent information. "I've heard that it's Mr. Jameson from school."
Mr Jameson was one of PE teachers. Often going out of his way to bully and humiliate underperformers, he was universally reviled. The thought of him moving in across the road gave me nightmares for days afterwards until David eventually revealed that he'd made it all up. Despite my relief, it was several days before I forgave him for his cruelty.
"Your waiting's finally at an end," Dad told me one morning, as a large removal van parked across the street. He laughed as I leapt to my feet and stared out of the front window, desperately trying to catch sight of my new neighbours. Two overalled men dismounted the cab and unlocked the rear shutter door of the panel truck, waiting for the owners to appear with the keys.
I raced outdoors and jumped onto my bike, cycling up and down excitedly. Camping nearby on the pavement, I turned the bike upside down and fiddled with the chain, providing me an excuse to linger within easy eyeshot of the house.
A small hatchback pulled up behind the removal van and a couple emerged, similar in age to my parents. I sighed in sheer relief that it was not the dreaded Mr. Jameson, detecting nothing untoward in their appearance. They glanced up at their new home.
The man walked up the front path to unlock the house for the movers whilst the woman returned to the car and opened the rear door. A young girl, perhaps five or six years of age, climbed nervously from the vehicle. She clutched a stuffed bear possessively to her chest, obviously reluctant to abandon it to the care of the movers. She took her mum's hand and approached the house, looking up with an expression of trepidation at the ramshackle facade.
"I don't like it," she said. "It looks creepy."
"An old lady lived in it, Sweetie. It just needs a bit of love and attention. It will soon be home."
She was short in stature. Her long, dark hair cascaded to shoulder level, framing her pale features. A floral sundress contained her slender form and her bare legs terminated in white ankle socks and saddle shoes. The girl's eye's fell upon me as I sat beside my bike, idly spinning the rear wheel. I smiled reassuringly and gave her a little wave. My heart thundered in my chest in anticipation, my every thought delivering the same message ... playmate.
"The little boy's waving at you, Alice," her mum told her. "Say hello."
The girl clung to her mother's arm, too shy to respond. I waited until they disappeared into the house before righting my bike and returning home, anxious to report my findings.
"A girl? Yuck," David opined when I informed him.
"Why?"
"Why?" he replied incredulously. "Because she's a girl, dummy."
"She seemed okay."
David raised his eyes skyward. "You're hopeless. Don't be such a sissy. Before you know it, she'll have you playing with her dolls."
I said nothing further, but decided to play it by ear with my new neighbour.
David and I had a chequered history. At times he was a good friend whilst at others he acted purely out of self-interest, demonstrating little consideration for my feelings. I consistently resisted his attempts to draw me into misbehaviour, even sometimes acting as a brake on his compulsive wrongdoing.
The next time I saw the girl, she was on her bike, riding up and down along the footpath outside her house. I collected my own bike and cycled on the road parallel with her for a few moments before mounting the curb, pulling to a halt beside her front gate. On her return, she slowed and drew up alongside me.
"Hi," I greeted. "I'm Paul."
"Alice."
"I live opposite," I informed her, pointing across the street to my house.
She nodded as she absorbed the information.
"Where have you come from?" I asked.
"Not far away. We lived in a flat but Mum and Dad saw this and decided to buy it."
"I knew the old lady that lived here."
"It smells funny inside but Dad says he's soon going to make it all nice."
"I use to go in and feed her cats while she was ill."
"Last night, I plugged my cassette player in and the socket flashed and went bang."
"My dad says the electrics need doing badly. He tried to talk old lady's sister into letting him do it, but she didn't want to pay."
"I think Dad's trying to find somebody to sort it out."
"My dad can do it."
She nodded and promised to pass along the offer. I admired her bike, a chopper with several gears. "I got it for my birthday," she informed me.
"Is it fast?" I asked.
"Do you want to race me?"
We spent the next hour sprinting up and down the road, screaming as the wind whistled through our hair. Towards the end, we swapped over and I finally managed to beat her.
Her mum called her in for lunch; we waved as we parted. Hungry, I returned home and tucked into a plate of beans on toast whilst extolling the virtues of my new playmate.
Later in the day, the girl's father knocked on the door. My dad invited him in and they introduced themselves. An hour later, my dad gave him a quote for the electrical work, which he accepted immediately.
"I've had three quotes that were a lot more expensive," he replied.
"I offered to do it for the previous owner's sister."
"Yes, Alice said."
"Your daughter?"
He nodded. "My wife Jane and I have been struggling to get out of rented accommodation for years. There really wasn't enough room where we were and Alice had nowhere to play. This is the first place we had any chance of affording. It needs a lot of work. I can do most of the building work myself but I'm a bit reluctant about touching the wiring."
"I've been doing electrical installations for ages. I'll guarantee any work for ten years."
"That sounds great."
With his current contract coming to an end, my dad promised to start purchasing materials straight away. Phil, Alice's dad, volunteered to act as labourer to help keep the cost down even further.
Over the next few days, Alice and I met up on several occasions. She soon showed me into her bedroom where I was relieved to discover an absence of dolls with which to play. There was however, a good assortment of board games and we passed away a couple of afternoons trying them all out. Alice was something of a tomboy. When we weren't playing games, we were riding around on our bikes and really getting to know one another.
I knew it wouldn't be long before David made an appearance. We were sitting on the front wall of her house when he sauntered up.
"I haven't seen you for a few days," he said, obviously annoyed that I transferred my attention to Alice.
"This is my friend David," I told her. "David, this is Alice."
"Hmm," David replied absently, unsure what to make of the situation.
"If you fetch your bike, we can all go for a ride," I suggested, trying to find a solution that would please us all.
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