“Wheels within wheels old man… wheels within wheels,” was the sage pronouncement of a fellow junior officer given to newly married Marcus. “You mark my words, old man, strings have most definitely been pulled…”
It had come as something of a shock for Marcus, on his return to HMS Troutbridge, to learn there was no space for him and that he would have to do a ‘holdover’ until such time as a space became available. Captain Povey told Marcus his holdover would be at a shore base. Povey thought young Marcus would be thrilled to learn of his secondment to HMS Curlew, a stone frigate which had the benefit of married quarters for what he termed the 'happy newlyweds'.
“I can’t understand it,” Captain Povey said later to his dear wife Ramona, “I thought that young midshipman would be pleased as Punch to have the opportunity to spend time on shore with his wife... It’s not every newly married officer gets such an opportunity.”
It wasn’t that Marcus was ungrateful to be posted to HMS Curlew, far from it. Despite Penelope’s at times stern behaviour towards him, he loved her just as he always had from the moment he first set eyes on her. True, she could be very strict with him and Penelope certainly had little time for what she termed his ‘demands’; those nervous words Marcus uttered during his so far futile attempts to woo Penelope in the bedroom. Marcus understood that Penelope’s behaviour towards him had much to do with the way she’d been brought up. He realised from the outset the strong influence of Penelope’s mother upon his wife’s behaviour towards himself. Therein lay the reason for Marcus not being quite as enthusiastic about his new posting as Captain Povey thought he should… Penelope’s mother. This was the reason, pure and simple.
When Marcus had told Penelope the news it seemed not to come as a total surprise for in her next breath Penelope told Marcus how there would be ample room for her mother to join them, ‘for as long as she wants’.
“Won’t that be lovely, Marcus?” Penelope cooed.
Marcus felt as if he’d been punched in the stomach, but managed to say the right thing, “Yes… yes, of course… that’s good… er, marvellous… yes, Penny… of course...”
Penelope’s announcement brought back memories of the humiliation Marcus had endured on his wedding day flooding back. How could he possibly forget how he felt to be standing, bare from the waist down, in front of his new wife and his mother-in-law, Mrs Bloom, while he waited for his spanking?
After their honeymoon, Marcus had been looking forward to joining his shipmates on board Troutbridge. Although naturally he’d miss Penelope, he was relieved he would be putting some clear blue water between himself and his mother-in law. But he’d hardly had time to drink a cup of the foul tea brewed by his steward, when the call came to report to Captain Povey. For once glad of the opportunity to leave his brew, Marcus stood up and looked fondly back at his bunk, his ‘wank-tank’ of happy memories. He was looking forward to renewing its acquaintance even though some bright spark had pinned up some of his wedding photos above his pillow. How Navy News had obtained the negatives Marcus had no idea, but the pictures had featured prominently in the latest edition of the magazine which had an almost universal readership among all ranks. Of the pin-sharp pictures that now adorned his wank-tank one which had been given prominence was of himself and Scottie, wearing his ring-bearer’s outfit, shaking hands. Marcus felt himself flush red-hot with embarrassment as he looked at the picture accompanied by the sound of sniggering from a couple of junior officers standing to Marcus’ rear. The photographer had deliberately posed Marcus and Scottie to highlight the absurdly short shorts they were both wearing; Marcus in his specially altered dress white shorts that bared his thighs right up to the lower curves of his bottom; Scottie in his little sailor-suit ‘hot-pants’ which had been made for a twelve year old who’d fallen ill at the last minute. Scottie’s tight-fitting costume had not not been re-tailored which meant every curve and boy-bulge was on full display.
His fellow junior officers thought the wedding photos a huge laugh. They teased Marcus mercilessly and promised to ensure that from now on he wore the specially altered white short shorts, unless Queen’s Regulations dictated otherwise. Marcus did his best to take the ribald teasing with good grace along with the odd wolf-whistle from the stokers when he appeared in his ultra-brief white shorts.
Apthorpe’s deduction about wheels within wheels was perfectly right. Audrey Bloom, Marcus’ mother-in-law, had been at school with Ramona Povey (née Plessington). As old girls they had remained in touch, each sharing the same values and robust outlook on life which had been instilled in them during their schooldays. Over the years they had done many favours and good turns for each other, so it was no surprise when Ramona Povey was asked by Audrey Bloom to use her influence “with the higher-ups” to secure a shore posting for her new son-in-law.
Penelope and her mother had agreed that Marcus would be better off in married quarters where they could both keep a close eye on him. Both women had been appalled by Marcus’ behaviour at the wedding and felt sure he would go completely off the rails if he was allowed to be away from the marital home for any length of time… or any time at all!
The subject had first been raised during the honeymoon when mother and daughter had sat down at the kitchen table one evening. Over a glass of wine the subject of Marcus’ future was discussed. It should be explained that, at Penelope’s suggestion, Mrs Bloom had joined the happy couple on the honeymoon. Marcus couldn’t understand why his mother-in-law was there at all. It seemed to him as if he’d spent his honeymoon attending to endless chores and if he wasn’t engaged in those, he was running an errand for Penny or his mother-in-law. On the evening in question, as the ladies discussed his future, Marcus was attending to some hand laundry. This was not the sort of task he thought he’d be carrying out on his honeymoon. Marcus imagined their holiday together would consist of a couple of blissful weeks engaging with Penelope in lengthy, athletic bouts of rumpy-pumpy, instead of which he’d been bossed about and given chores to complete. Indeed Penelope had yet to allow Marcus to engage in any rumpy-pumpy at all. Whenever he tried to approach the subject of their conjugal activities (or lack thereof), Penelope accused Marcus of being obsessed with sex, telling him that it was all he ever thought about (which was not wholly untrue) and reminding him of his disgraceful behaviour during their wedding.
One morning Marcus even found himself scolded by his mother-in-law who accused him of upsetting Penelope with his ‘constant demands’ for connubial relations.
“You are only nineteen years old, Marcus,” she said as her son-in-law stood nervously before her, dressed as ever in a pair of very brief, thigh-baring shorts, “I have observed boys of that age find it difficult to control themselves… I need only remind you of your frankly inexcusable conduct at the wedding. What on earth did you think you were doing? I hope you didn’t think your behaviour was in any way funny…” Audrey Bloom paused for a moment as she looked sternly at her son-in-law. “You must know that it is every bride’s dream to have a perfect wedding, but you, Marcus managed to spoil the ceremony for Penelope.” Mrs Bloom paused once more. Marcus’ stomach was knotted up as he waited anxiously for his mother-in-law to continue.
“Not content with deliberately flaunting your, ahem, boyhood in church, you made the most appalling noise in the village hall when Penelope, quite reasonably in my opinion, took you over her knee to be spanked as punishment for your wilful behaviour, Marcus…”
“Is it any wonder that all the guests were staring at you when you finally graced them with your presence at the reception? Heaven knows what they must have thought. Fancy them having to listen to your racket.” There was another pause before Audrey Bloom observed, “Wailing and pleading at the top of your voice like a little schoolboy… you were probably heard five miles away.”
Marcus gulped. He couldn’t help but recall the awful humiliation he felt as, freshly spanked by his new wife, he had been made to walk, as if nothing had happened, into the reception to face the wedding guests. From their expressions he realised they knew exactly what had happened. In any case Marcus’ thighs were bright red where the table-tennis bat had stung his legs; the reason his childish cries for Penelope to stop spanking him had been so loud. Loud enough to be heard by everyone assembled for the wedding reception.
No, Marcus hardly needed to be reminded of how it felt when he joined the reception. Nor did he need to be reminded of his behaviour shortly before he faced the wedding guests. How, fresh from his spanking, and still bare from the waist down, Marcus had shamelessly leapt about in front of Penelope, her mother and little Emily who was holding on to his white dress shorts. How he had danced about the room, kicking his legs as he rubbed his sore bottom. How he’d cavorted and waggled his bald private parts about in front of everyone. It was only after a further scolding and a reminder to behave himself that Marcus was given his shorts back by Emily, who had been kind enough to look after them while he was spanked.
Marcus was jolted back to the present by his mother-in-law: “And now you’ve succeeded in upsetting Penelope again with your continual demands… demands, it pains me to have to say, of a dissolute lascivious nature.”
Marcus did his best to defend himself, but only succeeded in incurring more of his mother-in-law’s wrath.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset Penelope… honestly…” he stammered.
“Your trouble, Marcus, is that you don’t think of the consequences of your actions. Without thinking you flaunted your base instincts before dear Penelope. You think too much of yourself and not of others. Or perhaps this sort of louche, self-indulgent conduct is acceptable among junior officers…?”
Marcus thought of all the happy times in his wank-tank dedicated to the joys of self-abuse. Life was far less complicated once he’d realised other junior officers, some quietly and some noisily, were pleasuring themselves as well. There was horseplay too, of course…
“I won’t ask you again, Marcus,” Mrs Bloom said interrupting his thoughts, “Are members of Her Majesties forces libertines... or perhaps you consider them to be debauched reprobates. Is this what you think of your fellow junior officers?”
More than ever Marcus felt himself to be a little schoolboy facing the wrath of an angry teacher. He managed to deny that any such behaviour was undertaken by his fellow junior officers, but his mother-in-law wasn’t finished with him.
“Exactly how are junior officers expected to conduct themselves?” she asked.
“As gentlemen, Mrs Bloom… as gentlemen,” Marcus said hoping his answer would be sufficient.
“Very good, Marcus,” his mother-in-law answered patronisingly, as if she was talking to a little boy, “That reminds me, Marcus, there is another matter I wish to discuss with you…”
Marcus stood quaking in his shoes wondering what on earth it could be.
“I have given this a great deal of thought, Marcus and I have decided that in future you will address me as ‘mummy’... ‘mother’ sounds far too formal, don’t you think? And I positively do not want to hear the word ‘mum’ fall from your lips, so common. If the occasion calls for it you may call me ‘Mrs Bloom’. It would be quite inappropriate to use my christian name . Only my dearest friends call me ‘Audrey’… is that understood?”
“Yes… yes, Mrs… er, mummy,” Marcus stuttered.
“That’s better… now one last thing before you go, Marcus.”
Marcus’s heart sank. He thought Mrs Bloom had said all she wanted to say, so he remained standing in front of his mother-in-law, feeling a slight breeze around his bare legs and waited for her to begin.
“Now, Marcus, I know that boys think it’s very clever to play with their little willy and when boys get to a certain age they can get so excited they make a mess…”
Marcus felt himself blush right down to his shoulders and he also felt a few beads of sweat as they trickled down from his forehead. He was embarrassed beyond belief.
Mrs Bloom continued, seemingly blissfully unaware of her son-in-law's discomfort, “This sort of behaviour is quite unacceptable. Boys who play with themselves simply lack moral fibre. Do you think they would fiddle with their little willy in front of their mothers? No, because boys know it’s very naughty… that’s why it is called ‘self-abuse’.... Do they think mummy doesn’t know what they get up to? Of course she does. Mummy can see by the stains on the front of his pyjamas exactly what her little boy has been up to in secret.”
“Marcus, I want you to promise me that you won’t play with yourself like other naughty boys… There is simply no need for it and as you’ve just told me how junior officers must behave like gentlemen, I’m sure you will be willing to make that promise for me and for Penelope…”
Marcus was shocked. Was this the price he would have to pay before he was allowed to perform his conjugal duties? If so, he would have to make that promise, but to remain in chastity while all around him junior officers were masturbating in their wank-tanks was going to take more willpower than Marcus thought he was capable of summing up.
Mrs Bloom looked Marcus in the eye and asked him again to pledge his agreement to abstain from self-abuse. Marcus promised to remain chaste.
After his ‘interview’ with his mother-in-law as over, Midshipman Marcus looked forward more than ever to rejoining the crew of HMS Troutbridge which was due to set sail for sea trials in the Bay of Biscay. Marcus had been looking forward to renewing his acquaintance with his ‘wank-tank’, but Marcus was a man of his word and making use of that on-board facility would, under the terms of his promise to his mother-in-law, have to be renounced.
During his honeymoon Marcus had not only been denied the pleasures of the marital bed, but he hadn’t even been able to find a quiet corner for a quick ‘J Arthur’. He had been kept busy during the day, but when bathtime came around, Penelope would be there to help make sure he washed himself properly. To Marcus’ extreme embarrassment quite often Penelope would be joined by her mother and he would be treated like a little boy who didn’t know how to look after himself properly, a situation that was enhanced by his lack of pubic hair. Upon seeing how he’d been shaved by a junior steward, Mrs Bloom decided it would healthier and more hygienic for him to be kept smooth and hairless. Penelope agreed. Marcus wasn’t consulted and shamefully said nothing.
If life in the marital home wasn’t what Marcus had expected, his duties at HMS Curlew were far from those for which a junior officer might have been expected to endure. Curlew was a training establishment, designed to give young men and boys a taste of the seafaring life. Marcus soon found out how his days were to be filled by showing Sea Scouts and Cadets various aspects of life in the Royal Navy. Physical exercise was a priority and Marcus was required to join in games and compete against the boys. Physical coordination and agility had never been a strong point with Marcus and he loathed clambering over obstacles on the assault course. Particularly annoying was the fact that Marcus was always beaten hands down by the youngsters. But worse than this was that Marcus found his marks for ‘zeal and enthusiasm’ were taking a serious battering, something his superior officers would not be pleased with.
The Cadets weren’t slow to pick up on Marcus’ weaknesses. They soon found out that the midshipman was unlikely to complain for fear of finding himself ‘marked down’, so they ragged him mercilessly. They ensured Marcus was drenched in the muddy cold water that every boy but he managed to swing over by hanging onto a rope. The Cadets groped him as Marcus struggled to crawl through a canvas tunnel. On more than one occasion Marcus found his shorts pulled down and he ended up hobbled as he tried to run and pull them up at the same time. But even worse than all the ways the boys found to disgrace him on the assault course was the humiliation he was forced to endure in the communal showers with the boys after their exertions outside. Bereft of pubic hair and with a naturally smooth body, Marcus had grown used to some light-hearted banter from his fellow officers, but to be mocked and teased by boys three or four years younger than he, was altogether too much. One boy of fourteen who was already not only more well endowed than Marcus, but also in possession of a very noticeable bush of curly pubic hair, had the temerity to compare Marcus to his twelve year old ‘baldy’ brother. The name ‘baldy’ stuck and everywhere that Marcus went the word was whispered in his ear.
Matters came to a head one day when Marcus returned to his quarters after yet another humiliating day with the Cadets. He had ended up last as usual in a race over the assault course. Splattered with mud he had snagged his brief shorts on a loose staple as he mounted ‘the wall’ (a particularly fiendish wooden structure upon which Marcus vented his hated each time he was forced to clamber over it). Marcus was caught straddling the wall with his legs dangling one each side of the structure, unable to move without ripping his shorts apart. Needless to say the cadets thought this a huge laugh as they watched Marcus desperately trying to save his shorts and get over the wall.
“Get your leg over, sir!” “Go on… jump, sir!”
The more the cadets shouted and whistled, the more desperate Marcus became. Eventually he managed to extricate himself from the situation, but it meant another black mark as he posted his worst performance to date over the assault course.
After another shower with the cadets during which he was forced to endure yet more teasing, Marcus was looking forward to a quiet evening with Penelope, but the minute he walked through the door he could hear his mother-in-law’s voice:
“But that’s marvellous news, Ramona… wonderful… yes, I agree… Marcus will be only too happy to help out… I’ll make sure of that… yes, of course he will… and if you would have a word with your husband and makes sure he speaks to the tailor on board his ship… yes, of course… he’ll have Marcus’ measurements… good, that’s settled...”
“Buggeration… what now?” Marcus muttered to himself… or so he thought.
“Don’t you think I didn’t hear what you just said, Marcus,” Audrey Bloom called as she replaced the telephone receiver.
Two seconds later Marcus’ mother-in-law appeared in the hallway.
“We are not at home to that sort of language in this house, Marcus,” she said sternly “… and what have you been doing with your clothes? You are a disgrace, Marcus… you’d better come with me straight to the bathroom… this minute!” Mrs Bloom’s voice rose and, when Marcus hesitated, she reached out, grabbed her son-in-law by the ear as if he was a naughty little boy, and hauled him up to the bathroom.
Marcus could barely see where he being taken as his head was twisted sideways as he was pulled by the ear and he struggled to keep up with his mother-in-law. Mrs Bloom was a strong, capable woman, more than a match for the likes of naughty boys like Marcus who tried apologising, but it was no use.
“Mummy… please don’t… please… ouch! I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to, mummy… ouch! I’m sorry”
But Marcus’ words fell on deaf ears as he was pulled into the bathroom and Mrs Bloom finally let go of his ear. Marcus’ hand shot up to rub his ear as his mother-in-law quickly got to work undressing him. Within seconds he was standing completely nude in front of her when, once again Marcus was pulled by the ear towards the hand-basin and he realised what was about to happen.
“Oh no, mummy… please, mummy… NO!”
Mrs Bloom rolled her sleeves up purposefully and reached for a bar of ivory soap which was kept in a covered dish and used for one purpose and one purpose only… that of washing out the mouths of bad boys who use naughty words.
Marcus was close to tears as he watched Mrs Bloom lather up a flannel.
“Open your mouth, Marcus! Wider! Nice and wide… that’s better… I will not countenance the use of bad language, Marcus. You may be an officer in the Royal navy and think you’re above such considerations… but you are not… You have behaved like a spoilt little boy and so you will be treated like a little boy… do you understand?”
Marcus could not be expected to reply as Mrs Bloom had already filled his mouth full of foul tasting soap bubbles and a soapy flannel which she was busily rubbing over his tongue. He heard Penelope’s voice calling from downstairs. Mrs Bloom took the flannel out of Marcus’s mouth. He barely had time to splutter before the bar of wet ivory soap was pushed into his mouth.
“Keep that in your mouth and stay there while I find out what Penelope wants,” Mrs Bloom said.
Marcus looked at himself in the mirror and thought what a sight he presented as he stood, naked and with his eyes streaming, a bar of ivory soap between his lips and soapy foam dripping from his chin… all because he said one naughty word. He looked down at his bald penis and cursed the young steward who’d given him such a close shave on the eve of his wedding. He wouldn’t have minded so much had he been allowed to grow back his pubic hair, but Penelope (and his mother-in-law!) decided Marcus looked much nicer without… and that decision had been final.
“What have you been up to, Marcus?” Penelope asked as she walked into the bathroom. From the tone of her voice Marcus could tell he was in the doghouse again. “Mummy tells me you were very naughty and used bad language…”
Marcus answered as best he could, which wasn’t easy when you’ve a bar of ivory soap in your mouth. He gurgled and humphed, coughed and produced copious quantities of foam that dribbled down from Marcus’ mouth, dripped from his chin and ran down his smooth chest, but no discernible words were forthcoming. This seemed to annoy Penelope even more.
“I can’t leave you alone for five minutes without you upsetting mummy,” she scolded him, “and just look at you… you’re so ungrateful… if you only knew how much mummy is trying to help you, yet all you do is behave like a naughty little schoolboy. Well, if you are going to persist in behaving like a schoolboy, then we’ll have to treat you like a schoolboy…”
All the time Marcus faced his wife Penelope with the bar of soap filling his mouth with suds and foam which was very unpleasant to say the least, but he daren’t spit the soap out. His eyes stung and watered, making Marcus screw his face up which caused his jaw to tighten and so clamp the horrid bar of soap even more tightly in his mouth.
“... and I had such a nice surprise for you,” Penelope continued and with a change of tone stepped up to Marcus, “Do you want me to take this soap now?” Marcus nodded his head vigorously, “Have you learnt your lesson?” Again Marcus nodded, agreeing to anything to get the foul-tasting bar of soap from his mouth. “Alright then, Marcus, but you are to go and apologise to mummy and tell her you are very very sorry for being such a naughty boy… Will you do that?” Marcus nodded his head as the slimy soap bubbles dribbled from his mouth.
Penelope eased the bar of wet ivory soap from Marcus’ mouth and placed it back into the dish by the hand-basin. Marcus was allowed to rinse his mouth a couple of times. Although this got rid of the soapy foam, it did nothing to lessen the overpowering taste of the ivory soap which Marcus knew from experience would linger in his mouth for some time. It was only then Marcus realised he was to go back downstairs just as he was, in the nude. The clothes he had been wearing were already in the laundry and he dare not risk upsetting Penelope further, so he gingerly went downstairs to the hallway and stopped when he heard voices coming from the living-room. Voices other than his mother-in-law. Marcus cupped his hands between his legs before going any further.
“It was no trouble at all to drop them off, Audrey… I… what have we here?” Marcus heard the woman say.
“Excuse me, Violet… Marcus! What do you think you’re doing?” Audrey Bloom snapped, “Haven’t I told you enough times that playing with little winky is forbidden in this house? Take your hands away from winky this instant! Good. Now come into the room and introduce yourself properly.”
Mrs Bloom turned to her friend Violet, “I’m sorry you had to see that, but boys these days seem to have become obsessed with... you know what. You wouldn’t believe the demands Marcus has been making of poor Penelope…”
“Boys think of little else,” Violet observed.
“Scottie is just the same… he won’t leave willy-winky alone. I’ve had to get some special mittens for him to wear at bedtime...”
Marcus was shocked to see that it was Emily who’d spoken. She was standing next to a red-faced Scottie who was dressed in the ‘Continental’ suit his Auntie Violet had bought him. Marcus had never seen such an absurdly short pair of tailored short trousers as those being worn by Scottie. It looked as if Scottie was just as embarrassed as he had been wearing the ring-bearer outfit.
It transpired that Emily and Scottie had been driven down by Scott’s Auntie Violet. The two of them would be staying for a short holiday, although Scottie was pretty sure he wouldn’t be an entirely enjoyable break… he’d already suffered the indignity of having the backs of his legs slapped in public when they’d stopped for a bite to eat on the journey to HMS Curlew. Poor Scottie was so embarrassed about being seen in his continental suit that he had foolishly dithered in the car park, saying that he would rather stay and “look after auntie’s car”. Auntie Violet had told Scottie not to be so silly. Then Emily grabbed him by the arm and pulled him along before auntie delivered a few resounding smacks to the backs of Scottie’s bare legs as they were about the enter the café . So Scottie was made to enter the café in his extremely short shorts that revealed bright red thighs from auntie’s smacks.
Marcus was still looking at Scottie’s little suit when Emily spoke up: “I think we ought to get you into your pyjamas, Scottie. It’s been a tiring day for you and you really need an early bedtime…”
“... but it’s only five o’clock, Emily,” Scottie blurted out.
Auntie Violet spoke: “Miss Emily, Scottie.”
Scottie looked sheepishly at his aunt and apologised.
Mrs Bloom thought pyjama-time was an excellent idea and proposed that Marcus too should be put into his pyjamas: “... Marcus was very naughty… using the most foul language when he thought I couldn’t hear what he was saying… didn’t you, Marcus?”
“Yes, mummy,” Marcus replied as he stood quite bare in front of everyone. The foul taste of the ivory soap still lingering in his mouth.
“Yes, I think we’ll have you into your pyjamas as well, Marcus. Then you and Scottie can have your tea and then it’s off to bedfordshire for both of you…”
Marcus looked sheepishly towards Penelope. If he was expecting her to overrule her mother, he was mistaken.
“Do as mummy says, Marcus… unless you want to go to bed with a sore red bottom.”
“No Penelope. Er, shall I go and get my pyjamas then?” Marcus said, hoping to escape his embarrassing ordeal in the living-room.
“No. You can stay there. I’ll fetch your pyjamas, Marcus,” Penelope replied before she turned to Emily and added, “The boys can sleep in the spare room…”
Emily nodded her agreement and started to undress Scottie: “There, Scottie won’t it be nice to share a bedroom with Marcus? That’s a big privilege you know… it’s not every boy who has the opportunity to share with a proper seaman like Marcus. I expect he’ll want to tell you all about his adventures on the high-seas… But I don’t want you getting over-excited, so it will ‘lights out’ at eight-thirty as usual.”
By the time Emily had finished her little talk she was taking off Scottie’s shirt to leave him just as bare as Marcus. The two boys were made to stand side-by-side and Aunt Violet said the two of them reminded her of her older brothers that she used to sit for when she was Emily’s age.
Emily unpacked a pair of Scottie’s pyjamas. This particular pair of brushed cotton pyjamas Scottie found dreadfully embarrassing to wear as they made him feel like a little boy. The pyjamas, normally worn by much younger boys than Scottie, were printed with a pattern of cartoon monsters and Mrs Bloom remarked that she didn’t realise such pyjamas were made in sizes suitable for teenage boys like Scottie.
“Perhaps I ought to look out for a pair for Marcus.” she added.
“Well actually I took the liberty of buying a pair of pyjamas as a present for Marcus,” Auntie Violet said, “I wasn’t sure of his size…” With these words she produced a pair of pyjamas that made Marcus cringe with embarrassment.
“Oh, how lovely,” Mrs Bloom gushed, “Marcus, nip upstairs and tell Penelope not to bother getting… never mind, here she is… Penelope darling, Violet has bought Marcus some delightful pyjamas… they’re a present for him… what do you think?”
“Mummy they’re beautiful… how very thoughtful of you Violet…” Penelope turned to her husband, “Marcus aren’t they lovely?”
Marcus gazed at his new pyjamas, replete with childish images of starfish, ships, anchors and other nautical paraphernalia, and inwardly groaned at this new humiliation. That he, Marcus the midshipman, would be forced to wear such a garment was, he felt, beyond the pale. He prayed that word would not get out that he had been put into such humiliating pyjamas as these. However, Marcus knew the response that was necessary for him to give.
“Yes… they’re really nice… thank you, Auntie Violet, that was very kind of you…” the naked, red-faced midshipman managed to say.
Emily had Scottie dressed in his pyjamas as Penelope helped put Marcus into his new sea-faring themed pyjamas.
“I brought some bibs for the boys to wear,” Emily announced brightly.
“What do we want bibs for?” Marcus asked, at which the older women looked at each other and collectively raised their eyes and tutted.
Emily explained, “I don’t want to see you two spoiling your nice new pyjamas when you have your tea… I know what you boys are like…” she said firmly, “In my experience boys are very messy when they are eating... I don’t want to see you spilling your food and drink all over your clean pyjamas.”
The towelling bibs were both emblazoned with the words ‘Mummy’s Special Boy’ and Emily soon had them tied around the necks of Marcus and Scottie. Then Emily took Scottie by the hand and told Marcus to hold Scottie’s other hand as she led the boys through to the kitchen for their tea.
Penelope had found two small ‘junior’ sized hard wooden stools for the boys to sit on and she smiled as Auntie Violet suggested old-fashioned high-chairs might be preferable.
“The stools will have to do for now,” Penelope said, “but I agree with you… Marcus is such a messy eater, a proper high-chair would suit him much better. I’ll have a word with some of the other mothers… there’s bound to be high-chairs available somewhere on Curlew.”
Marcus said nothing, but prayed Penelope would at least be discreet in her enquiries.
