Mad about the boy

Fan Fiction about Sean, non 18+

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Mad about the boy

Post by sharpshooter1 » Mon Dec 14, 2009 3:58 pm

Hi - think it is OK to post this 'novella' in this section. Sean and Viggo two lovely souls - borrowed you for this romance. No disrespect meant.
This is a simple tale of love, between two men, between a man and woman, between friends and families. There are no graphic depictions of sex, love is what drives this story. The story wrote itself, I am a fan of Sinatra etc and European music 1930-40s so what I have done is linked a song to each of the chapters so if you like, you can get in the mood, so to speak, as you read. It is a tear jerker but then love always triumphs or so I hope. It is also a homage to wonderful Long Island from a Brit who would move there in a flash if she won the lottery and also a loving picture of my brave and beautiful London.

This story is dedicated to my darling Carlos and to CM who has lent me her shoulder to lean on and walked with me during this shadowed year.

Mad about the boy.

Part 1, Chapter 1
Each chapter has been inspired by a song, I hope you will play and enjoy the song that inspired it. [See Links] Love this version which found on You Tube, sultry, very European and pre war. As Noel Coward said: ‘Extraordinary, how potent cheap music is.’ Hope the Youtube links work.
[Right click, left click open hyperlink to listen]

New York and Long Island early June 1938

Summer seemed to have come early to New York. Heat rose from the pavements, mixing with petrol fumes from slow moving traffic and fused with the sullen air. To breathe and walk required more energy than Viggo was prepared to use and he gratefully grabbed a taxi, allowing himself the pretence that the movement of the grudging air through the open window felt cooler. Finally, an hour later he tossed his bag in the back of the low, elegant Horch 855.

‘David, where did you get this honey from? She’s a beauty’ Viggo said relishing the smooth line of the car, the soft leather and the feeling of power barely contained as the car pressed forward leaving Queens to sulk in the heavy twilight. David tapped the side his nose with his finger. ‘Germany, bit hush hush Vigs, let us simply say not quite legal.’
Soon they were speeding down the Long Island Motor Parkway, the wind cool on their faces, delirious with the spice, energy and immortality of youth; they sang along to the radio, crooning to Dorsey’s ‘Smoke gets in your eyes’ getting the words wrong and laughing, harmonizing with Sinatra as he asked ‘Do I worry?’ ‘No’ they shouted back, a party at a splendid Hampton’s mansion ahead of them then sailing, swimming and fishing for the rest of the weekend.

Later replete with shrimp and steamed crab Viggo relaxed outside on a lounger, the terrace was filled with candles, people quietly laughing and talking. The moon stood still, filling the sky with pale transparent light and the sea endlessly, romantically, whispered its message to the sand. He had finally escaped from the old bore that had cornered him, spending forty minutes questioning him about the polo ponies bred on Viggo’s family ranch. While he loved his horses and had sailed over with the last lot beauties to be sold in the States, tonight he was in the mood for drink and maybe romance. He sipped his Long Island Tea* and lit a cigarette, stretching out he felt his eyes almost closing.

The sudden applause, gasps and laughter enticed him out of his reverie, sitting up he looked round curious, a group of people had just arrived and who was that man they were all fluttering around?
David nudged him ‘Bloody hell, that’s only Noel Coward’
They sauntered in and watched fascinated as the slender, elegant man was handed a glass of champagne and persuaded to go to the piano and sing for his supper. Viggo leaned against a wall smiling at the music, wit and banter. He looked across the crowded room thinking how good it was to be here and to have time to enjoy such an evening.

He caught the back view of a young man laughing with some friends at the bar, slightly long silky, sun blonde hair shining in the light, wide shoulders, a narrow waist, great ass, long legs. Viggo was sure he had not seen him earlier; maybe he had come with Noel Coward’s group? The young blonde’s shoulders were shaking with laughter and he then tucked whatever he was showing his friends into his wallet and pushed it slowly into his back pocket. Viggo stood entranced, if the front was as good as the back he was a goner.

David came behind him and breathed softly
‘Sean Bean, new money, father’s some bigwig engineer making and designing planes in the North of England. The boy is plane mad and piloted himself to our fair shores last week. You like what you see?’
‘David stop that, just admiring nothing else...’ shushed Viggo.
‘My friend, he came with Noel Coward’s group – might swing both ways, you could be in with a chance.’ David grabbed a flustered Viggo round the shoulders and pushed him towards the group.

‘Sean, long time no see’ said David as they shook hands and clapped each other on the back. David continued ‘Sean may I introduce my friend Viggo Mortensen, he is from the Argentine and breeds cattle and polo ponies.’ The blonde turned to Viggo, his smile could have lit up the whole of Long Island, strong face, gentle, friendly, green eyes. He shook Viggos hand, dipping his head slightly and licking his bottom lip as if suddenly shy. Then a laugh, a slap on the back and a delicious, warm voice said
‘You’re just a posh cowboy then Viggo?’
Viggo found himself nodding agreement and smiling insanely at the young man, unable to say a word. He had never thought you could actually be swept away and struck dumb at the same time. He had never thought you could fall into green eyes, into a smile and be lost forever. David’s smirk earned him a swift kick to the ankle
‘Get you another drink Viggo? He asked.
Viggo nodded, still smirking David turned towards the bar, looking over his shoulder at Viggo and jerking his head towards Sean.
‘You here on business or pleasure’ Viggo asked feebly.
‘Bit of both and you?’
‘Err yes, bit of both as well, you down for the weekend, um, Sean?’
‘No, the whole week, I’m staying with friends in Northport and you?’
‘No just the weekend, back Sunday night’ ‘Too bloody hot in New York this time of year, you got business there?’
‘Err, no just drove down with David, business finished, loose end - err he’s my lift back’ Viggo replied looking down at his feet.
‘Come stay over with our group, we’ve rented this great old house by the water in Northport, they say it used to be a house of ‘ill repute’ replied Sean with a naughty smile, then asked ‘Do you sail?’
‘Yes, a little, but look I only brought an overnight bag and...’ he replied stumbling a little as a firm finger jabbed his back, he turned and glared at David.
‘Stay Vigs, I am sure Sean can lend you extra clothes if needed, you look about the same size. I am down again next weekend and you can come back with me then’
So they stayed smiling at each other and making small talk, their eyes meeting occasionally and then they would both look away and start speaking at the same time. Viggo was in a place of music and enchantment, ‘was life ever this kind?’ he found himself wondering, ‘could you simply wander into a party in the Hamptons and find someone so perfect standing, smiling at you?’

A few notes on the piano, then the words of the song drifted across, a soft, wistful voice singing ‘Mad about the boy...’

* Long Island Tea - Not iced tea a wonderful, sophisticated cocktail!!!!

Chapter 2


David dropped them off at three in the morning. A timid sun was stretching itself somewhere out across the Atlantic, birds were stirring as David called ‘Good night’ and with a roar of the engine sped away.
The old house by the water was quiet; carrying his small bag Viggo followed Sean along the terrace.
‘Have you got a key’ he whispered
‘Nah, I’ll get Harry to let us in’
Eventually a sleepy Harry opened the door to them. Bemused Viggo found himself shaking a hand and being quite formally introduced to a young man in the dark entrance. ‘British manners?’ he asked himself.

‘Oh’ said Sean ‘So Tommy’s arrived, is he in the spare room? Thing is I bought my very good friend Viggo home with me so now where can he sleep?’
A tired Viggo heard mumbling about a spare bed, and then Sean was back, close to him, looking sheepish
‘Vigs, the only place to sleep tonight is on the spare bed in my room, I’ll sleep out on the lounger on the terrace, I’m sorry but Tommy’s only staying one night and tomorrow...’
‘Sean it’s OK, don’t be daft I can sleep in the spare bed in your room and you can sleep in yours – it is no problem’
‘If you’re sure, come on then.’
Viggo followed Sean his mind in turmoil, ‘Would he? Could he? Would they? Could they? Should they?’
Sean lit a small lamp, a freshening breeze lifted the white curtain, and the room seemed to glow in the gentle light. Embarrassed and as shy to two maiden aunts, they faced opposite walls scrambling out of their clothes and into their pyjamas. Sean looked at Viggo, then pointing at a bed said
‘There you go Viggo’
He stood there, a strange hesitant smile on his lips, Viggo looked at the spare bed then back at Sean, without thought or a conscious movement he saw his hand reach out towards Sean, they moved towards each other, still looking, still silent. He moved his hand to touch Sean’s chest, Sean reached out and lifted Viggo’s hand up to his lips and gently kissed it.

Softly, silently they moved together, entranced by the dance of love, lips brushed, hands gently touched hair, traced cheek bones, necks were covered with soft kisses. Slowly they settled on to a bed, for once no haste, no guilt, no fear, no struggle for dominance. They were simply two people who were discovering each other, their love making as gentle as the sound of the sea whispering to the shore. No fierce cries of completion and victory, simply gentle gasps and whispers of ecstasy, then two tired lovers falling asleep, safe in each others arms.

‘Hey Sean, Viggo get up you lazy buggers, we are off to Shipwrecks for breakfast in twenty minutes.’ yelled a wide awake and commanding voice as a fist pounded on the door.
‘Harry?’ groaned Viggo
‘Yes, the bastard. Come on quick shower and then we’ll go and eat one of the best breakfasts in the known world. We could of course, save time by showering together, mustn’t keep Harry and the gang waiting’ smirked Sean with the devil in his eyes.
‘Too right, good old Harry’ said Viggo moving out of the bed into his lovers arms.
Later a clean, respectable pair of young men sauntered up the little main street, smiling, nodding and wishing people good morning. At Shipwrecks the gang was seated in the small sun filled patio out the back. Loud and boisterous introductions followed, Sean ordered waffles with raspberries, fresh cream and another pot of coffee. David was due later and they would take the boat out and go fishing.

Viggo, dazed and smiling, sat next to Sean nodding in all the right places, suddenly he understood what happiness was, a simple second of perfection, in his soul he knew he would remember this moment till the end of his days. Sean’s arm slung over the back of a chair, each golden hair glowing and perfect in the sunshine, the laughter lines near his eyes and lips, the sudden glance of those green eyes owning him, telling him he was wanted. The sound of laughter, the call of the gulls, the smell of coffee, the taste of tart raspberries nestled in warm sweet waffles and bathed in rich, decadent cream, if he only had this one day, he knew could live all his life from that memory.

Chapter 3

The summer wind

Wednesday, they got Shipwrecks to make them up a picnic and Viggo and Sean took one of the cars and drove out to Horseshoe crab beach. It was quiet there, a sea bird was swooping, dropping shell fish onto the small cement parking lot, then diving down to eat from the broken shell. A man called to his dog and they both disappeared into the distance.

They sat quietly together, there were things to say, things that needed to be said. They sipped the cold beer and scuffed the sand with their feet.
‘Come, come and see them, the horseshoe crabs, they are wonderful, come on’ Sean pulled Viggo to his feet; they paddled at the edge the water and then Viggo saw one, ancient, different, apart from and yet part of this modern world.
‘A ranger last year told me they were living fossils’ enthused Sean pointing to another one.
‘I can see that, they are like nothing I have ever seen before’ replied Viggo. ‘This is like nothing I have ever felt before’ he mentally added.

They wandered back to their blanket opened a couple more bottles of beer.
‘Sean is this serious or just a summer affair? I tell you this is something I have never felt before. I have had affairs with guys and girls but this is different, I am different this time. Where are we Sean?’

‘I reckon this must be love, although they say it’s not supposed to happen between two men. I’ve never wanted a woman, not you know like that. Had a few fumbles and a couple of hot weekends with other men, but you’re right, I just feel different. I feel complete, that I do not have to go out there looking for anything or anybody ever again.’ Sean lay back closing his eyes to the sun

‘Do your parents or family know how you feel Sean?’

‘Not really, my older brother is married and has already got a couple of great kids so no pressure on me to get married or provide grandchildren and heirs. My sister is engaged and yes, I think she knows, she once told me not everyone was the marrying kind. Thing is Viggo, we have to be discrete, we can’t tell anyone how we feel, we can’t mention love or that we want to be together. We could both end up in prison, our family’s names ruined and dragged through the mud’ Sean finished sadly.

‘Of course you’re right, I am an only child, my parents are already pushing me to get married, settle down, they want to see an heir for the Mortensen lands and money. I don’t blame them I am not angry with them, what else would they expect from their only child. On the other hand we have something here that we cannot throw away or deny. I do not think I can live a lie, I want to be with you every minute ...’ Viggo ran out of words.

‘I think we must be content with snatching a few moments here and there, just say we are ‘friends’ perhaps get away occasionally with good friends like Dave or Harry to act as chaperones.’ Sean added sadly.

‘Yes, I suppose we are luckier than most, to at least have a few friends who don’t condemn. Listen, I have to go home soon, my parents want to do their annual Europe tour and I should go back to take care of the land, horses and cattle, come with me, come to the Argentine. You ride, yes?

‘Badly, but yes I can ride and I still have a couple of weeks to spare; the only thing I am really good at is flying, I’ll ride horses if you will let me fly you down.’
‘Done’ said Viggo and lay back next to Sean, it was a compromise a few weeks here and there, but the joy of love, even in secret was worth the sacrifice.

On Friday night they all went out to the latest ‘hot’ dance hall. It was crowded, the music was good, the girls pretty and the men handsome. They leant against the bar smiling at the crowded swirl of the dancers, Viggo’s feet started tapping, Sean raised an eyebrow, winked and then leant close to Viggo

‘Hey, you could just dance with the pretty ladies’ then lowering his voice pouting his lips he whispered ‘Sweetie pie, you can dance all you like but promise you’ll only come home with your baby?

Viggo giggled and choked as he swallowed his JD on the rocks the wrong way.
‘You not going to dance?’ he asked
‘Nah, got two left feet me, I am happy propping up the bar and watching your fine arse in action.’

Viggo smirked over his shoulder and wandered over to invite a smiling, dark haired girl watching the dance floor to dance with him. Over her shoulder he caught sight of Sean giving him thumbs up and fluttering his eye lashes.

‘One day I will take you in my arms, we will press against each other and dance’ Viggo promised himself.

Chapter 4

Media Luz – Half Light

The following week they took off from La Guardia and with frequent stops to rest and refuel they finally landed in the Argentine, leaving the plane at the military airport in Mar de la Plata. They then began the long, tiring car journey to the interior and the Mortensen ranch.
‘Bloody hell Vig are we ever going to get there, where do you live?
moaned Sean, tired, dusty and getting fractious like a bored child.
Viggo smiled and patted his lover’s knee, ‘Soon be there and I can tuck you up into bed and let you get a good night’s sleep.’
‘Tuck in bed yes, good nights sleep? I am disappointed, I was expecting more than that’ Sean laughed back.

Under the watchful eye of the servants they were circumspect and took few chances, sometimes managing to share a bed in the quiet afternoon doldrums. Whispering, holding each other close, indulging their bodies, sharing moments of passion that left them breathless, aching and thirsty for more.

Viggo had worried that Sean would get bored and was delighted to find that he was enjoying the days out riding across the endless plains. Copying the way the gauchos rode, trying to meld himself to be at one with the horse. Too soon their little stock of days was running out.

‘Tomorrow night I want it to be really special. The moon will be full; we can ride out, cook a parillada*, drink wine and sleep under the moon, just you and me – no servants I promise’ Viggo said.

They left early; Viggo had even included a mule loaded with odd shaped packages. Sean eyed the mule and the packages suspiciously.
Vig...’ he started
‘Shssh, not a word, it’s the portable barbeque, our bed rolls and food, wine, water etc so don’t start moaning’
Sean laughed, the sun in eyes, his head thrown back,
‘Old woman’ he teased and then turned and galloped off.
Viggo swallowed and shivered, so little time left, maybe next year they would be able to do it all over again. Maybe.

A day of laughter and racing each other across the everlasting pampas and now they were making camp. Viggo lighting the charcoal, then a fire, opening the wine, Sean rubbing down the horses making sure they and the mule were fed and watered. They had camped in a little arroyo in the plains, a few scrubby trees, and the land still warm from the sun. Viggo looked across, Sean was sipping his wine and smoking, very quiet and thoughtful; unusual for him.

‘You OK?
‘Yes, I was just imagining if we could do this forever. Run a few cattle, race across the plains, sleep out under the stars. Be together every day, answering to no one, no responsibilities except for ourselves.’
Viggo had no answer to the longing in Sean’s voice which mirrored the longing in his heart.
‘Why was it so wrong and forbidden to love as they did? Was it so wicked that they had to hide such a love and never speak to others of an evening such as this?’ he asked himself sadly. ‘One day’ he thought ‘I will celebrate this, one day I will boast of the love of my life, one day, maybe.’

The meat was tender, spicy and eaten hungrily with fingers for forks.
After they had eaten, finished the wine and set a small pot of coffee to bubble gently on the fire Viggo said ‘now for my little surprise.’ With his back to Sean he took a large packet from a blanket, ferreted around and then with a lot of muttering, tugging and twisting finally turned back to Sean holding out a rather small and battered wind up gramophone.

‘Not a word’ he said, as Sean started frowning, his mouth already forming ‘daft bugger...?

He unwrapped several records from a second blanket, put one on the turntable, wound it up and pulled Sean to his feet.
‘I once made a promise to myself that I would dance with you, hold you close to me and we would move together to the music. No, do not tell me you cannot dance, listen, we will dance the tango a beautiful, seductive dance from my country, this song is called Media Luz, half light, it sings of a love hidden like ours sadly is. Sean dance with me?’

Sean’s eyes seemed for a moment full of tears, then he blinked, smiled and replied
‘I will dance with you Viggo’

In the moonlight they wound around each other, their feet dragging circles in the dust, a cheek bone, an eye, a lock of hair caught and gilded in the firelight. At the edge of the land and the sky the moon rose and lit their dance, the air was full of ancient magic, the world had disappeared, the only thing that existed was two people in love, dancing.

Chapter 5

Mack the knife

September 1938

While they had loved under the wide skies of the Argentine the world had not waited for them. In September a violent hurricane had devastated and destroyed many lives and much of Long Island; it was like an evil portent in a world that seemed to be slowly sliding into an abyss. In Spain a grim and terrible civil war was being fought, brother slaughtering brother. In September Chamberlain feebly announced ‘Peace in our time’ but the omens promised war.

They wrote often, friendly letters that would not compromise them if found and read by another. One letter Viggo received, folded and put away half read. He saddled up and galloped alone for several hours far out across the pampas, he frantically wanted to gallop on, through the skies, across the ocean. He wanted to grab Sean and bring him back, back to the safety and shelter to be found in the open, in the open plains.

Dismounting he sat and drew the letter from his pocket, rereading that fatal paragraph.
‘ dad says he thinks we will be at war by next year. I am going to volunteer for the RAF in the New Year, do my bit. Any chance you could make it over here for Christmas? It might be our last chance for a few years. I have got a little bolt hole in London we can hide away in and then visit my parents for a few days over Christmas. I told Meg, my sister, about you, about what good friends we are. She would like to meet you. Please say you will consider it. Hell, if you like I can even introduce you to the ‘polo’ set, she lives in Surrey, loves polo and you can flog a few of your horses. Business and pleasure? What do you say? Say yes....’

Towards the end of November Viggo left the warm sunshine of the Argentine and flew to New York, stopping over for a few days on his way to London.

‘David it is so good to see you again’ they greeted each other warmly, shaking hands, clasping shoulders, smiling and nodding, then settled down to order dinner. Viggo was frozen after spending the day shopping for warm clothes and that elusive special present for Sean.
‘You were over in London recently?’ he asked.
‘Yes, and yes I saw Sean, he is fine, happy like a crazy cat with two tails that he is going to get to see you again.’
‘David did you ask why he is going to volunteer, surely it won’t come to this, surely you are not really going to fight Germany? Sean won’t fight – will he?’
David smiled at the waiter saying ‘bring us two whiskeys first, I think the Glen Morangie no ice, We’ll order in a little while.’
‘Viggo’ he said quietly ‘I know you are far away in Argentina with your own political problems and it maybe seems like a stupid European spat or perhaps nothing more serious than over heated press speculation, however I concur with the opinion that we will be at war with Germany, possibly by the end of next year if not sooner. Sean has special skills, he is a very good pilot he is used to test piloting for his father’s aircraft concerns. He will now offer those skills to his country in its time of need. Viggo, you know him, he can do no less than this.’
‘But, if war comes he could just train new pilots. He doesn’t have to fight he could get out of it, couldn’t he?’
‘Maybe Vigs, maybe.’ David raised his glass of whisky ‘Cheers. I hear they do a wonderful porterhouse steak with a large enough baked potato to feed a whole family. Sound good to you? Waiter.’

Viggo left by ship three days later, the crossing was smooth. On board in the bars and at dinner he listened to war speculation and tried not to be drawn on giving an opinion. As the news from all over Europe began to sink in, it seemed inappropriate, childish and cowardly to say he wanted to kidnap his lover and hide him away from any war, no matter how just.

He stood some nights on the cold deck looking at the merciless stars, remembering the taste of raspberries and waffles, the perfect golden hairs on a bare arm in the sun. The feel of two bodies entwined and moving as one to the rhythm of a tango. He felt for the small box in his pocket, turning it over and over in his hand and praying to the understanding and loving God he had just invented and wanted to believe in desperately ‘Keep him safe, keep him safe, please, please, please.’

They docked in Southampton early one grey dark morning, he walked down the gang plank, trying to make out that well loved face in the gloom.
‘Hey Vigs, over here.’
He was home.

Chapter 6

London by night

The baggage was quickly stowed in Sean’s low slung, racy Bentley drophead coupe. A warming gulp of cognac, rugs in place and they took off for London. Down the misty, twisting, winding roads between high hedges, through small villages, not a leaf to be seen on the trees in a land tucked neatly away for the winter. As they drove Viggo looked around, everything looked so small even the sky seemed to be hanging just above their heads. Yet, here he was and there was Sean, handsome, laughing, larger than life, his capable, long fingered hands gently guiding the steering wheel, stroking the gear, the car purring under his ministrations.

They found so many things to say, interrupting each other, asking, answering, listening, rushing in with new topics and feelings. Viggo felt as if he had not spoken since he last saw Sean, as if he had had nothing to say unless it was to be said to Sean.

They kept grinning and checking each other out.
‘Great tan Vigs, lucky you, brass monkeys over here’
‘Brass monkeys?’ queried Viggo at a loss.
‘Cold enough to freeze the balls off a brass monkey’
Vig subsided laughing ‘You are one crazy Englishman’
‘Yeah, but I am your crazy Englishman.’
‘Oh yes, always and forever’ replied Viggo ‘Forever’ his mind repeated.

London seemed crowded, dirty, busy, full of purposeful people scurrying every where. The river was sullen and grey, a glimpse of the docks impressed him, ships and cranes in movement, a whole world of commerce and noise, he realised suddenly that London was the capital city of an empire, if war came, yes it would come here. He shuddered imagining the cranes outlined in red, outlined in flames.

They were away along the embankment, then leaving the river, the car turned and slid through the traffic on a winding busy road and within minutes they had pulled into a tiny street, full of little houses with brightly painted front doors. The car gently rocked to a halt.

‘Welcome Vigs, this is my home in London.’
The front door was an elegant dark blue, a small evergreen tree shivered on a pot by the step. Keys jangled Viggo grabbed his case and Sean opened the door with a flourish and ushered Viggo in.
‘Mr Bean, I’ve built up the fire and there’s a stew on the range, do you gentlemen nice for later. Right, I’ll have to pop off now, my Harold is not himself today. Be in tomorrow, ta ta for now’
Viggo wasn’t too sure of the age or indeed sex of the busy, warmly wrapped little person who bustled passed him the hall, he raised his eyebrows at Sean who smiled and said ‘Maisie, Maisie King she does for me when her Harold permits, he has a lot of bad days you see.’
‘Right’ said Viggo carefully.

Indeed the tiny house was warm and the smell of furniture polish mingled heartily with the welcome smell of simmering beef stew.
However, stew, fire and Harold vanished as Sean and Viggo fell hungrily into each others arms. ‘Quick, bedroom upstairs’ muttered Sean as he dragged Viggo up tiny wooden stairs which bent abruptly to the left, Viggo felt his knee crack against the wood.

He had a brief impression of a large bed and a good fire in the grate, then he was full of Sean, full of the feel of his strong body, those large hands, those long fingers. The delicate touch of his eyelashes against his cheek as Sean, his eyes closed, kissed him deeply. The unique smell of Sean’s body imprinted upon him since that first night in Northport, the remembered dance of their love making.

‘How I have missed this’ he whispered as Sean moved against him.

Later in the small sitting room they ate bowls of stew and drank dark peaty ale from a stone bottle. By three o’clock the day had decided not to bother putting in an appearance and a dark gloom instead pressed against the tiny windows. Sean pulled the curtains and they were hidden away, safe in a world of warmth, firelight and shadows.

Chapter 7

A foggy day in London

They woke next morning to find fog pressing against the windows
‘Bloody pea souper’ announced Sean ‘Oh dear, we will have to stay home tucked up warm by the fire or in bed maybe?’
He smiled across at a rumpled and bemused Viggo emerging from under the covers ‘Pea souper?’ he queried, puzzled and shaking his head.
‘Fog, London fog, it is as thick as a bowl of pea soup. You know, like you can’t see the bottom of your plate when it’s full of pea soup’

Viggo wisely filed pea soup with brass monkeys and kept quiet. Wrapping his robe around him he went and stood behind Sean, folding his arms around him, hugging him and looking out at the strange, silent, yellow fog that isolated them.

The front door banged, followed by a small coughing fit, then a voice called ‘Yoo hoo Mr Bean, just popped in for an hour to get you and your gentleman friend something hot for breakfast. Porridge and kippers alright? I’ve got a nice bit of lamb shank I’ll fix it and leave it to cook slow in the range so you can have hotpot for later.’

‘Yes fine Maisie, many thanks, didn’t expect you this morning, how’s Harold.’ Sean called back as he fumbled into slacks and a warm sweater
‘He’s down sir, he’s very down, fog gets up his tubes’.
Viggo lay on the bed smothering his laughter ‘Fog up his tubes? Kippers? what on earth are kippers and lamb shank and hotpot?’

A pillow landed on top of him and then Sean rushed through into the tiny spare bed room, pulled the bed covers down rumpled them and the pillow, then smothering his laughter dragged Viggo and pushed him into the spare room.
‘Dress now’ Sean hissed ‘That’s a first’ replied Viggo. Batting his eyelashes and pursing his lips into a kiss Viggo whispered back
‘Ah, what a gentleman you are, protecting my maidenly virtue.’

At the breakfast table like two naughty school boys they giggled as Viggo stirred and gingerly tasted his porridge. He looked across at Sean and pulled a face, Sean pushed the pot of honey across the table.
‘Stir some honey in, it needs sweetening’
‘It needs something’ mumbled Viggo back.
He tried his tea, thinking longingly of some mate or coffee. Maisie came in with a glass bottle.
‘Being as you are a foreign gentleman, Mr Bean thought you might like some coffee, you pour a bit in your cup, then would you like it with either hot milk or a drop of hot water to mix it with?’
Sean waggled his eyebrows, choking with laughter as Viggo suspiciously poured some of the thick coffee liquid into his cup.
‘Hot water I think, thank you, erm Maisie’
‘Pleasure sir, pleasure.’ She said as she poured the water.
He sipped it, not too bad, and then read the label. Camp Coffee*. ‘Oh yes’ he thought ‘A certain naughty someone is going to pay for that tonight’
‘Your face is a picture’ laughed Sean

Viggo fought with his kipper, managing to scrape some flesh off and chew it down; he did enjoy filling up on the toast and marmalade though.
An hour later Sean paid Maisie, tucked her scarf around her neck, kissed her cheek and whispered
‘Little something extra today, you might need a drop of Port or Brandy and a bit more coal in this damp weather’
She smiled up at him
‘Thank you, a blessing on this earth you are and no mistake’

Two days of love, listening to music, reading, long discussions about books read, plays seen, music enjoyed. They cooked breakfast together in the kitchen, bacon, eggs and sausages smothered in a strange brown, spicy sauce.* Like an old married couple they set the table together, always sat in the same chairs then rinsed and dried the dishes together. The morning of the third day Viggo woke to a different country, sun streamed in through the tiny bedroom window. He could hear Sean and Maisie laughing downstairs,
‘Oh no’ he muttered to himself ‘not porridge and kippers again.’

They had a day of Christmas shopping, stocking up on treats from Fortnum and Masons to take with them to Yorkshire. They bought fine cigars and elegant ties for the gentlemen. Silk scarves and gloves chosen with care for the ladies, a train set from Hamleys for a fine nephew and a beautiful doll for a dainty niece. They decided they would have a little private Christmas before they drove up to join Sean’s family in Sheffield.

*Camp Coffee still going strong!
*HP sauce. For the uninitiated - a must with bacon and sausages

Chapter 8

Have yourself a merry little Christmas

On the morning of December 15th they drove a few miles through cramped crowded streets, full of tiny houses huddled against each other. Finally parking, Sean tossed a shilling at an urchin who was looking at the car with large eyes.
‘Another one coming your way if you make sure it stays in one piece’
The lad nodded vigorously, folded his arms, puffed out his chest and glared at the other children. Sean and Viggo dragged the large hamper out of the car and carried it up polished steps. Sean knocked on the door. A few minutes later it was half opened then pulled open wide.

‘Oh Mr Bean, sir what are you doing here and ...’ she stopped tears filled her eyes as she looked at the hamper. Her hand went to her mouth ‘You shouldn’t... .’ she began.
‘Yes I should, you’re a dear friend Maisie and I just know you are going to invite Viggo and me in and give us strong tea and a slice each of the best Christmas cake made in England.’
They carried the hamper down the narrow hall into a warm kitchen A grey faced old man sat by the fire, his knees covered with a blanket, blind eyes turned to them, a cough rattling in his chest.

Maisie leant down and whispered in his ear, a smile lit his face, he put out his hand ‘Put it there Mr Bean, welcome, Maisie cuppa tea and a slice of cake for Mr Bean’ they shook hands long and hard ‘It’ll have to be two cups and two slices I have a friend with me all the way from the Argentine, where the corned beef comes from.’

Viggo leant forward smiling and captured the hand ‘A pleasure to meet you Mr King’
‘Harold, call me Harold. Cor blimey,* fancy that, you’re a long way from home, sit down, sit down’
A tray of tea and a plate of thick gleaming slices of fruit cake, edged with icing appeared. They sat in the half light of the fire, talk turned to the prospect of war.
Harold said ‘You want to watch yourself Sean, be your turn next. Done my bit, thank the Lord, he brought me home safe to my Maisie.’
Hands fumbled for each other and Maisie wiped her tears on the corner of her apron.
Sean tapped him on his leg ‘Nay I’m going be a fly boy, safe up in the sky not like you poor sods were, down in the mud.’

Harold sighed and shook his head, he knew when the guns started firing there was nowhere safe to be, that even silver planes could fall burning to earth. Viggo swallowed and looked at his love, laughing and warm by the fire; Maisie caught his glance and smiled gently and knowingly at him. Viggo took her into his heart, someone else who accepted that love came in many ways.

Sean gave the urchin another shilling and with good wishes for Christmas and the New Year they drove off.
‘How...’ started Viggo
‘Bloody mustard gas, blinded him and shot his lungs to pieces. He’s a good chap and his wife is a diamond and stop worrying I’ll be fine.’ Viggo stayed silent.

That night they took a taxi and dined out in a magical London filled with lights and music. Good food and plenty of wine and champagne saw them stagger out of a taxi in the early hours. Eventually they managed to line up the key with the lock, open the door and fall inside. They banked the downstairs fire and tossed a little more coal on the bedroom fire.

The wind was coming from the North and they were soon snuggled down in bed, Viggo had a little box in his hand, he turned and met Sean turning with a little square packet in his hand. They laughed and kissed, then exchanged their presents.

Viggo opened his, smiled then his eyes filled with tears, in a beautiful silver frame was a picture of them both, laughing in the sun and sitting close to each other on Shipwrecks back patio. That magic moment captured forever. He held it against his heart.
Sean opened his, a beautiful gold medallion on a fine chain, he looked at it closely

‘St Michael how did you . .?’

‘I asked David if there was a special saint to look after airmen, he told me over here they had adopted St Michael as their patron saint in 1918 – so where ever you go, when I’m not with you, he will watch over you.’ He took it and put it around Sean’s neck, as he closed the clasp he bent and delicately placed a kiss on the nape of Sean’s neck saying a prayer to his own personal, understanding God to keep him safe. They loved and then slept, waking later than they planned. Hurriedly they loaded the car with presents and food and then sped off through the frost tipped, air heading north to Sheffield and Yorkshire.

*Cor blimey – old London phrase meaning ‘God blind me if what I say is not true’

Chapter 9

Let it snow, let it snow

It was a long hard drive; the weather was settling in, ominous heavy banks of clouds driven across the skies by a fierce North wind that grew bolder as the day wore on. They stopped for lunch, a meat pie and a pint each in a small, dark pub. All the conversation was about the weather. Heavy snow was forecast on the radio and by various old, wrapped up men, who mumbled in country accents about the last big fall and the chaos it had caused.

Viggo, worriedly looked around as he sipped his beer and tried to find a piece of meat in his meat pie. He hoped they would beat the snow.
‘Relax, soon be on our way again, not so far now. Stop mucking about wi’ that meat pie if you don’t want it pass it over here.’
Grateful, Viggo passed it to Sean and watched him fascinated as he munched away with enjoyment.

They filled the car at a little garage in the village
‘Reckon this ere pump’ll be frozen by tonight’ said the owner
‘Aye feels like it’ replied Sean.
Viggo nudged him
‘Aye? Where did you get that from?’
‘That my dear Viggo is Yorkshire for ‘yes’ we are not far away now and it is time you learnt to speak the Yorkshire dialect.’

Viggo raised his eyebrows wrapped his rug around him and settled back in the car. ‘Crazy language, they drive on the left hand side of the road and they eat strange soggy meat pies without any meat in.’ he muttered then shook his head and blew a kiss at Sean as they set off again.

An hour later and it was pitch dark, they turned off the lane and into a drive. A lantern swung in the wind feebly lighting large closed gates, Sean honked the horn and out of the gatehouse came a short heavy set man
‘Now then’ he greeted them and dragged open the gates. Sean wound down the window
‘ow do Will?’ he asked.
‘Fair t’middlin, fair t’middlin’ was the reply. Sean grinned at Viggo who poked his tongue out and refused to make any comment.

They drove down the long drive as the first of the snow fell. Faint lights ahead resolved into the lit windows of a large mansion. With a satisfying crunch and honking the horn Sean drew up and the huge double doors opened, dogs and people came rushing out to greet them. Sean squeezed Viggo’s hand ‘Come on lad’ he whispered then climbed out of the car.

Next morning feeling warm, peaceful and well rested Viggo awoke as the maid brought in a tray. She set it down with a smile on the table by his bed and pulled open the curtains, the room filled with a cold white light.
‘Morning sir, snowed all night it did, reet deep ‘tis now’ and she knelt and poked the fire adding another log and a few more pieces of coal, then left the room.

Viggo got up, pulling on his robe and slippers. The scene from the window was of a world melted and smoothed by the snow, no sharp edges, each thing changed and softened. He smiled and turned back to the tray to pour a cup of coffee. A tap on his door and as it opened a beloved face appeared around the corner.
‘Morning, how did you sleep?’ Sean asked
‘Fine, but missed you next to me and you?’
Sean entered the room, closing the door and turning the key. He looked debonair and rakish in a long burgundy dressing gown, he bent over the chair and pressed a soft kiss on Viggo’s lips. He winked and giggled.
‘By my watch we have at least ten minutes before everyone starts getting dressed and heading down for breakfast, we could of course admire the view or ...’

Later, Viggo sat with an enormous plate of eggs, bacon, sausages, kidneys, fried bread and mushrooms in front of him. He also poked at something he wasn’t too sure he liked the look of
‘Did they say black pudding, isn’t pudding a sweet eaten after dinner?’ He puzzled then decided to hide the dark slices under a rather large grilled tomato.

Viggo looked round the table, Sean favoured his father, Frank, as he had asked to be called; a tall slender, graceful, man, with thinning but still slightly long, floppy fair hair. He smiled occasionally over the top of his newspaper. Sean’s mother, Emily, a gentle dark haired woman watched over the table and cuddled her granddaughter, a small shy girl on her lap. Sean’s brother Mark, dark like his mother was busy serving his solemn son with more sausage.

‘Viggo’ said Sean’s sister Meg stirring her coffee ‘We must get together for a long chat later, I would love to hear all about the Argentine’ she smiled as Viggo nodded in reply., Sean prodded him smiling and saying
‘Ha, she’ll give you no rest until she knows everything about you – curious is our Megs’
‘Mr Mortensen, is it true what Uncle Sean said, that you stick labels on tins of corned beef for a living?’ asked the little boy. Amidst the laughter breakfast ended.

The research and development section of the family aircraft design business was housed in what had once been a vast barn. Drawing boards, tables full of papers, models of aircraft, and large pieces of what looked like engine parts leant against walls. A cluttered office occupied one corner of the barn and after showing them around Frank Bean disappeared into his office.
‘Wow, this is really something’ said Viggo
‘Yes, my father has a genius for understanding how planes fit together and fly, I love working with him and Mark enjoys taking care of the business side. A real family company, even Megs used to keep the books. You know she wants to vet you? to make sure you are good enough for her little baby brother?
Viggo rolled his eyes ‘What do you think?’
‘You’ll do, you’ll do’ replied Sean blowing a tiny hidden kiss.

That afternoon, in a small fire lit room Viggo and Meg sat drinking tea and eating tiny sandwiches. ‘So far I like you Viggo and I have never seen Sean look happier. I know how hard it must be and I am sure you think it is none of my business and yes, to a degree I am on your side.’
She paused and looked fiercely into his face continuing ‘But, if you hurt Sean or behave in a careless manner which could bring disgrace on him, Mum, Dad and the rest of us I will make sure you regret it for the rest of your life. Do you understand?’
‘Yes, the last thing I want is to hurt anyone including myself or my parents. I simply want you to know that he will always be my beloved, no matter what. Also, I have learned and know how to be discrete’
‘Good, that’s out the way. Well are you ready to try these cakes? They are a Yorkshire speciality called ‘Fat rascals’.
‘What is it with food names in England’ wondered Viggo as he bit into a delicious fruit and nut filled cake.

Chapter 10


The next day, Christmas Eve, the tree was brought in and trimmed, Meg’s fiancé Alan arrived and Viggo smiled to see the blond, strong, forthright Meg blush and melt into his arms.

It snowed all day and by late afternoon they were now truly snowbound, not even a visit to the midnight service at the local church was possible. After supper Sean’s mother sat down at the piano and started to play and they gathered round to sing carols.

At the end of the evening Frank wound up the gramophone
‘A little tradition Viggo, Alan but on Christmas Eve we always play my favourite carol, it is called ‘Still’ and is sung in German, it means near enough the same as in English ‘Still, quiet, peaceful, calm.’ Swallowing hard he raised his glass,
‘Merry Christmas to us all and also to next Christmas, may we all be gathered together again in a world at peace.’

Divine music and young voices filled the room. But outside the north wind still blew and the snow still raged.

The snow relented a little and they were able to make it back to London in time for New Years Eve. Merry with good food and champagne they joined the revellers in Trafalgar Square. Pushed close together by the press of people they sought each others hands and listened as Big Ben stroked the sounds, and the bells welcoming the New Year in chimed out across the city and country. They cheered and hugged
‘Beginning of forever for us’ whispered Viggo
‘Aye, us forever, good bye to 1938 welcome to 1939.’ replied Sean.

* N.B. Christmas 1938 is renowned; on Dec 17th a fierce North wind brought prolonged snow falls all over the country that lasted through Christmas. It was that rare thing in England, a white Christmas.

Mad about the boy Part II

Chapter 11

I’ll see you again - sung Noel Coward
January 5th 1939

Reversing the joyous journey of December they drove down to Southampton. The sky was bleak and the land still cold, dead awaiting the touch of spring warmth, a fine mist hugged the hedges and fields. Their conversation was stilted, too much to be said in mere words. In a world dissolving into war they would be too far apart to plan another visit.

‘We’ve half an hour to spare let’s stop and have some tea or coffee’ said Sean as he pulled into the lorry crowded car park of a warmly lit cafe. Warmth, steam and the savoury smell of bacon wafted enticingly around them. Viggo smiled as he saw the ubiquitous bottle of Camp coffee on the counter. He thought how he would miss foolish things like that.

They found a table in the corner and sat sipping their coffee in silence
Suddenly Sean leant forward,
‘Vigs when you go home, your parents are going to want you to settle down, get married. Please find some lovely dark eyed, tango dancing woman, fall in love with her, marry her and have tons of wonderful children and I can be their crazy English uncle who visits occasionally.’
Furious Viggo hissed back ‘Are you out of your mind? It is you I love, how dare you say such things. Is that what you think of us of me? That I can simply fall in love just like that’ He snapped his fingers
‘To please my parents? What about us?’

Sean smiled sadly ‘Viggo we will be continents and oceans apart. I will be joining up and soon we are going to be at war, you know it is true. Hitler will push and push and instead of shameful betrayal as we allowed happen last year to the Czech people, we will finally have to honour our treaties and obligations, we will have to stand and fight. It is not your fight, go home to peace and plenty, we will write, we will always be in each other’s thoughts. It may be a long while until we can see each other again but we have enough love and memories between us to see us through, come what may.’

Viggo stayed silent he knew this was going to be a long maybe final farewell but never would his heart accept it. He held to the hope of meeting again, free to be together, to live each day edged with the gold of their love.

On the quay, time was now counted in minutes and seconds. A manly hug and pats on the back as they held each other
‘Vaya con Dios mi amor’* whispered that deep magic voice as Sean pressed a tiny hidden kiss to Viggo’s neck.
‘Cuidese, te amo para siempre’* Viggo’s lips ghosted across Sean’s soft, trembling mouth as they parted.

Viggo watched from the deck leaning over as the tugs urged the liner gently out into deep water, a rare softening in the mist allowed a little glimpse of the sun to filter through. He waved to the slender figure, and could just see a long wave back, then for a second, the fragile light caught Sean and Viggo saw the faint trace of gold around his lover’s fair hair, but soon all was lost in the mist and in the past.

Ten days later in New York and Viggo was leaving that afternoon to Buenos Aires, but first a chance to have lunch with David and catch up on his news. They talked about England, they laughed over Viggo’s jokes about the strange names for food and especially Camp coffee. He even confessed to David that he had bought and hidden a bottle in his luggage

‘A souvenir’ he started to joke but then swallowed his pain and fell silent for a moment then continued ‘If war comes how can we even stay in touch by letter’ he shook his head despair threatening to overwhelm him.

David spoke softly ‘Viggo, send any letters or packages to me at my New York address, I have ways of making sure they will reach England even if things are ... difficult shall we say? I will get in contact with Sean as well and give him a name and telephone number. If the worst happens he will still be able to get letters through to you via my contacts’.
It was little enough but Viggo was comforted by David’s kindness and understanding.

He wrote a long letter on board ship, to the casual glance a simple account to a friend of sea voyage, yet hidden in such phrases as ‘wish you could have seen the beautiful sunset, felt the warm breeze...’ was a wealth of love and yearning. Childishly, he pressed his lips to the casual good bye ‘hope to see you soon down our way, all the best...’ he hoped Sean would understand and garner the hidden kisses.

*‘Vaya con Dios mi amor’ Go with God
* Cuidese, te amo para siempre’ Take care, I will love you forever.

Chapter 12

Stormy Weather

June 1939

In June an increasingly unhappy Viggo and his parents finally had a long and almost frank conversation. Gently, Viggo lied and explained that he had not yet met a girl as wonderful as his mother, a girl he could settle down with and dedicate his life to.
‘If our local girls do not stir your senses, maybe you should look for a nice gringa. Why didn’t you find one when you were in New York or even when spending time in England with your friend?’ asked his father.
‘I want to please you both but to live a lie with a girl I do not love; I cannot do this’ Viggo hedged.
‘Exactly, you are tired of what is on offer here and maybe a few weeks of holidays here and there are not enough time for you to meet the right girl, to be sure she is from a good family and has a good reputation.’ Don Jaime paused and Viggo rubbed his chin covering his smile at the phrase ‘good reputation’.
His father continued ‘As you pointed out to me recently we need to be aware of this looming war, even though it is miles away. Yes, there are plenty of opportunities for us to prosper from this war. Troops need protein, meat that is safely sealed, has a long life and easily carried so, yes we could do very well from our corned beef interests.’
He paused then continued
‘I also agree with you that one day the might of the United States will be forced to enter the war and when this happens it will be on the side of a free Europe. A nasty little dictator ruling all of Europe would be too much of a threat to them. Your mother and I have decided that Spain is still hopeless, Italy in the hands of dictator and that it is too dangerous to visit Europe this year, so we will holiday at home. You however will go back to New York. We need to dismiss our agent, distance ourselves from the Argentine politics that favour Germany and open our own office there in New York and let us see how things will go for a year. You, dear Viggo, will of course set up and run this office at least for the first year. I have every faith in you and I am sure that nice young man David can help you find a suitable office and give you any advice you need. First thing is to find that rare thing an honest lawyer to make sure everything is water tight and legal, next a good accountant to make sure we pay the least possible in taxes. Second thing is to find yourself a wife, a good girl from a good family. Dona Elena wants some grandchildren to spoil.’
He hugged and thanked his parents for their faith and trust in him.

Later that night unable to sleep he wept bitterly ‘how could he ever keep his promise to them to find and fall in love with a ‘good’ girl and give them the grand children such loving people deserved?

New York - late August 1939

Viggo quickly felt at home in busy, steamy New York. Letters from Sean and his to Sean arrived quicker, he felt closer and less isolated. They wrote always of casual things, Sean was in the RAF and he amused Viggo with tales of training pilots and the wonderful times he had trying to train up the Czechs and Poles on Hurricanes and Spitfires.

‘Mad buggers, brave as lions, never listen to a word I say, love them to pieces, glad they are on our side! Camp coffee still as delicious! No, I do not wish you were here bit grim at the moment; I love to think of you in America, occasionallydriving down to Long Island. Bumped into Harry the other day, he sends his best to that daft Argentine sod.’

Viggo replied ‘If you see Harry again tell him greetings from me to the noisy bugger! Love living in New York and how could I forget that great time we spent on Long Island, few days ago went to Horseshoe Crab beach sat for a while then inspected those strange looking crabs. They still survive, never changing like us and yes, everything is as you remember, everything. See our good mutual friend David now and again for dinner or lunch; he is still the mysterious smoothie. He sends his regards and says there are waffles, stuffed with fresh raspberries and smothered in rich cream with your name on at Shipwrecks when you finally came over again.’
Viggo’s nights, were however sad and lonely.

3rd September 1939
I am speaking to you from the Cabinet Room at 10 Downing Street. This morning, the British Ambassador in Berlin handed the German government a final note, stating that unless we heard from them by 11 o'clock that they were prepared at once to withdraw their troops from Poland, a state of war would exist between us. I have to tell you now that no such undertaking has been received, and that consequently this country is at war with Germany…

Viggo and David listened to a recording of the broadcast on radio, they read the words again in the newspapers. One journalist had written noting it had been a perfect September morning, full of sunshine.
Mad about the boy
Chapter 13
New York 25th May 1940
Viggo was puzzled and dismayed to read the news, the whole British Army it seemed was trapped on the beaches in France. Yet selfishly, all his thoughts were of where and what Sean was doing. He hurried over to David’s office; this time rather than waving him through, David’s pale, unsmiling English secretary asked him to wait.

Viggo sat impatiently; he could faintly hear David’s voice, it seemed he was on the phone. The second hand jerked steadily round and round on the wall clock, he watched the secretary. Her face was stern and still, yet as she bent over her typewriter he saw her mouth twist in what looked like pain. He began to understand this news was about more than his love, his Sean. The war to him was all about it taking Sean away, putting Sean in danger. He began to realise this war was spreading like a cancer, Europe gripped by the throat, all those people no longer free, Britain on her knees.

For the first time he realised how selfish love could be. For him everyone else’s sacrifice and suffering had been acceptable, everyone, except for Sean. He thought about Sean’s family, had his brother Mark joined up? How were they all coping, what about his parents, the children, Meg, had her Alan joined up? Then he thought of Maisie and Harold, he felt a weight of sadness, how were they doing for money, for food? What of David’s family? He had never even asked.
‘Excuse me; could you ask Mr Wenham to join me if he can for dinner at my place this evening, he’s got my number. I can see he is busy right now.’
‘Certainly Mr Mortensen.’ She replied, smiling faintly and as he turned to go he saw her surreptitiously dab her eyes.

He spent the rest of the day on the phone; he was humbled to discover that while he made money and worried over Sean, other people had started doing positive, helpful things. He smiled at the wonderful name ‘Bundles for Britain’ then ransacked his closet and took items down to the collection point in a Park Avenue store. He had even included his spare blankets, he remembered how cold and damp England could be. No, not cold, ‘chilly’ that was the word they used. Chilly and damp.

David had a letter from Sean for him. Viggo carefully put it behind the clock to read later, smoothing his fingers over the address and smothering a sigh. Viggo then spent a good ten minutes bombarding David with crazy, hastily made decisions to go to England and join up, learn to fly, learn to fight, and generally save the world and Sean single handed.

After two slices of pizza and two large glasses of a very good red wine, Viggo stopped and looked over at David who looked drawn and tired but managed to smile back.
‘I’m so sorry David, I just feel so useless sitting here there must be something I can contribute to the war effort.’ He paused remembering the men trapped in France, looking down he continued

‘I am sorry, I thought only of myself’
David sat up straight ‘I really can’t tell you too much, but we are not finished yet and we are going to get our chaps home whatever it takes. Viggo, you are good at business and understand how to move large quantities of corned beef cheaply and effectively to where they are needed. Do you know what Britain and trust me, at some point soon, America are going to need? Logistic experts, that’s what. Men, goods, food, arms, guns, and tanks they all have to be moved around. Not an easy job is it? Viggo be patient. I have to be away in Washington for a few weeks. Please wait for me to come back, I think you can be of more help to the war effort from this side of the Atlantic. Well it’s getting late I’ll be off now, early start tomorrow’ he smiled and glanced at the envelope behind the clock.

‘Just a moment please, can you make sure these letters get ‘sent’ safely’ Viggo asked as he crammed several envelopes into David’s hand. He looked down, then back to his friend’s face.
‘I forgot other people for a while, please make sure this one gets through, I changed some dollars and put a five pound note in with their letter, they might need it. Should be alright in the mail shouldn’t it? The others are for Sean’s family’ he paused then asked ‘David, how is your family doing?’
David smiled ‘So far so good, ah, a little something for Maisie and Harold, I’ll make sure it is delivered to them personally.’ He gripped Viggo’s arm ‘Take care’
‘You too, you too’ replied Viggo.

Two days later he sat in a crowded cinema and watched the newsreels. He was not the only one drying his eyes and making silent vows. Boat by boat under the screaming Stukas, through the slicing and dicing of machine gun fire, in the heat and the agony, through the body filled waters they came in their little boats and they took their men home.

Chapter 14

When I grow too old to dream

September 1940

Viggo had taken on a part time, unofficial role as David’s logistics man. He liked using his hard earned knowledge and contacts and he got more involved with not only the British but the American diplomats and military who were working to end the war in Europe. All the time looming on America’s other horizon was Germany’s ally in the east, Japan. He sometimes lay awake at night and found it hard to recall what peace had felt like, but always he ended with that breakfast at Shipwrecks. Waffles, raspberries, cream and coffee, an arm carelessly draped on the back of his chair, touching his shoulder, golden hairs perfect in the sun.

Very few letters came now, the last one a tired scrawl from Sean ‘...sometimes we even fall sleep standing up, Camp Coffee keeps us going, do you remember? I promise you one day we will meet again – just like the song says. I wear your gold medal all the time,
hugs Sean.’

Maisie and Harold had died together during one wicked raid, Viggo had sat and wept, remembering their love for each other, the porridge, kippers, and thick slices of Christmas cake. ‘How cruel, how cruel’ he had whispered at the time. Viggo pressed his lips to the letter and held it against his heart.

‘Please, please, please keep him safe’ he whispered to his kind, imaginary God who would never have let even a sparrow fall.

The door bell rang, waking, he glanced at his clock, it was very early. He opened the door and a pale and tired David was standing there.
‘Viggo, old friend ...’ he began.

Two weeks later David handed him a letter
‘This just came through with the diplomatic pouch Vig, I think it is from Meg’
Viggo looked up from his desk, slowly he reached out.
‘If I take it, it will make it true won’t it? He asked.
‘Vig, it is true, you have to face it, don’t deny him or your feelings’
He took the letter but did not open it till much later that night. Meg had written

Dearest Viggo
‘Sean left this letter with me to send to you if anything happened. It is so very hard to now have to send it to you, I never believed I would have to do so, I wanted us to laugh at such foolishness, him to tear it up when this wretched war is won. Dear friend do not forget us, one day when all this is over come and see us again. We are as well as can be expected. It is very hard, so many dear ones no longer here. He was my beloved golden, young brother, happy, full of fun and mischief. We will always miss him and you, dearest Viggo, I send you love straight from my heart. You gave him what he always hoped he would find, a partner loving and true. Live and live well
God bless
Meg xxx

He sat remembering that perfect Christmas Eve the snow, the carols. Sean sneaking into his bed late at night, claiming he had cold feet and needed Viggo to warm them. Setting the alarm so he could get back to his own bed before everyone woke up. Viggo bowed his head and swallowed his tears and pain. How could he deny his love, refuse to read Sean’s letter, refuse to honour his bravery and accept his death, he opened and read,

Vigs, my beloved, my lover, my dearest friend,
Don’t you dare mourn!
We had so much, we have danced under the stars, made love on the beach and by the firelight we have lain, sated, in each other’s arms, I cherish these memories. I know one day, somehow, we will be together again, this time forever.
Remember me and be happy, promise me you will live and love again.
Sean xxx

He garnered the kisses with trembling lips and remembered that perfect sunny morning, the golden hairs on his lover’s arms, his Sean,
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Mad about the boy - cont:

Post by sharpshooter1 » Mon Dec 14, 2009 4:56 pm

He garnered the kisses with trembling lips and remembered that perfect sunny morning, the golden hairs on his lover’s arms, his Sean, gone forever and finally he wept.

Never in the field of human conflict was so much owed by so many to so few – Churchill.

Chapter 14

I’ll never smile again

Berlin 1946
Viggo stood at the window, nursing a cup of coffee and smoking the first cigarette of the day. He looked out on the grey, jagged, wintry scene; it seemed there was nowhere complete or warm left in the world. He was ready to go home, a few more months and he would leave behind his honorary posting with the US army, the hungry faces, the ruins and the looming confrontation with the Russians.

He thought of the pampas and the wide sky, his parents, the horses, time to go home. As always mornings were worst. By evening he knew, understood and fully accepted yet again that Sean was gone forever, but oh that treasured moment on waking before he remembered. That precious heartbeat of warmth, smiling, stretching before the bitter realization that Sean was dead.

A small plane on fire last seen heading out over the English Channel, then swallowed by history. No grave, just a name and such a few memories.

He took a deep breath and settled his face into its normal mask, firm but compassionate, turned back to his office calling in response to the knock.
She saluted smartly, a pleasant, smiling girl
‘Colonel Mortensen sir’ then she tucked her cap under her arm, releasing dark, shiny unruly curls.
‘And you are?
Lieutenant Wagerman, sir’
‘Yes, what can I do for you? If it is about more supplies for Captain Michaels’ secret charities you already know there is nothing to spare at present. We are awaiting the next shipment. The Russians are being ‘difficult’ as your boss Captain Michaels knows full well and I cannot keep diverting supplies to the children’s hostel.’
He smiled and added ‘I suppose she thought she would get round me with a pretty face.’
She frowned slightly at him ‘Excuse me sir, but haven’t we met before?’
He shrugged pulling a folder towards himself ‘ I doubt it and it still won’t get you any further supplies, now if there is nothing else...?’
‘Long Island, before the war, that dance hall ‘Breakers Beach’ I think it was called; we danced most of the night together. You were there with an English friend, I thought I recognised your name Viggo, Colonel Mortensen now, I just couldn’t remember in what context’ she smiled eagerly at him ‘my name is Trudie, do you remember?’ She fell silent.
‘No I don’t, so if you have nothing else to say I suggest you return to your patients and your duties’ he replied tersely.
White faced she saluted and left.
Viggo yelled ‘O’Donnell’
‘I have to go out I’ll be back in an hour, take messages and anyone who needs to see me personally you can schedule for this afternoon or tomorrow morning.’
‘Yes sir’
Out in the cold, under the grey, frowning sky, he pulled on his heavy coat and walked quickly to the little broken park near his office. The birds hopefully hopped around his feet, but no largesse today and soon he reached the remains of an old stone bench that looked out across what had once been a pond. Sitting hunched over he lit a cigarette and thought about what had just happened and how he had reacted. He had been shocked; Long Island was his memory, his and Sean’s special place. He had been so amazed that some else held a memory of him and Sean, for a second he even dared revisit that evening in his mind, Sean smiling back at him, batting his eyelashes. He knew he would have to apologise to that pleasant young girl, he also knew he would again deny his love, with if necessary, a casual mention that his ‘friend’ had died early in the war

He shook his head; he could only truly share his grief with David, Harry and Meg, such a tiny handful of people. He longed to tell people that he had lost someone he loved very much, someone he had thought to spend his life with. He longed to say the words, to say out loud the name of his beloved, a love that he had to keep deep in his heart; he sat in the cold and carefully relocked that door in his heart. Later in the afternoon he would wander over to the hospital with a few goodies, be pleasant and apologise.

Captain Michaels glared up at him, stuffing the food parcel Viggo handed her under her desk ‘Well Viggo what have you been doing to my Lieutenant? She came back here almost in tears; a simple ‘no’ would have sufficed.’ She pointed towards the ward. He found her at her desk in the corner of the ward. He smiled, even under her cap her curls managed to escape.
‘Miss Wagerman, er Trudie ’
Startled and a little apprehensive she looked up at him.
‘I am sorry sir, I know I overstepped the ...’
‘No, it is I who am sorry, you were right, we did dance that night. It is simply I was so surprised to be suddenly reminded of Long Island and those very happy days before the war. It seemed like it was a lifetime ago and it reminded me of friends no longer here and ... for a moment I didn’t want to remember’
She nodded and looked down. ‘Yes, it is a happy memory for me too and oh yes I understand, the burden of remembering the lost is very hard.’
A comfortable, silent moment rested between them.
‘Miss Wagerman, Trudie, may I make it up to you by inviting you to an ‘elegant’ dinner at the mess?’
With a lovely, open smile she replied ‘ Sir, I thank you kindly, corned beef hash and beans, I can hardly wait, I get off duty at six.’
They lingered late in the mess talking about New York, Long Island, summer days and old friends. He told her about the pampas and the Argentine, she told him about her family back in New York and how she missed them. They smiled and laughed, for an evening two sad, lonely souls found warmth and comfort.

Chapter 15

As time goes by

New York 1947
In the spring they met up in New York, Trudie admitted she was finding the return to civilian life difficult. Women were expected to head back happily into the kitchen. Viggo no longer wanted to live and work in New York he wanted to go home, to hug his parents, to ride, to leave behind the memories of the camps, of hungry people, of ruined cities and be cleansed by the wind that roamed the plains of his home.

They became close friends, one night she shared memories of her fiancé, Jim. ‘He went down with the Lexington in the spring of ’42, battle of the Coral Sea. We had got engaged before he sailed, we were so very young and we thought we would have this wonderful life together with so much time in front of us, you know, all the usual things. Maybe we were foolish, who knows? I am not the same person I was then and now I will never know what we could have had. Yet, he will always remain someone I will cherish, be proud to have loved, to remember and talk about.’ She paused and he gently touched her hand.
‘Viggo what happened to your young English friend, I think you miss him a lot.’ she asked softly
‘I do miss him, you know how it is, some friends, you think they are going to stick around forever. He was a pilot and he was killed during the battle of Britain. We had lots of laughs and we enjoyed horses, boats and flying – and well you know....’ he trailed off.
She returned his touch they held hands and then raised she her glass. ‘To old friends and lovers, may we honour and keep them alive in our hearts’ they smiled at each other and toasted the dead.

He still saw David occasionally, David pulled him aside one night and told him how much he liked Trudie, Viggo looked at the floor, David took him by the arm saying ‘Listen, Sean loved you and life, he would not want you to grow old alone, his memory to become a like bitter frost, a frozen burden on your heart. He deserves better than that and so do you. Remember him but live and be happy. That is how you can love him and keep his memory evergreen. He would have liked Trudie that I do know – doesn’t her honesty and that wide smile remind you of Meg just a little?

Meg wrote to him on the birth of her son,
‘He is a very handsome, sturdy boy - blond with green eyes, he is to be christened Sean Victor. I think you will be happy with his names, I couldn’t quite slip in ‘Viggo’ without too many explanations! Mark has been posted to Singapore and cannot get away, therefore Alan and I would love you to be one of his godfathers. We would rather have you here for the christening next month than have a proxy at the ceremony, so get tickets and come, please. By the way, David tells us you have very nice young friend called Trudie, dear Viggo do not close your heart to love, she would be very welcome.’

A phone call later that night ‘Trudie, can you get away and come with me for a visit to England, I know it is short notice but you remember me telling you about my friend Sean? His nephew is being christened, well, I have had the honour of being asked to be godfather and I would love to have your company, what do you think. Please say yes?’

The christening was a happy, healing affair, full of tears, hugs and the sharing of treasured memories. Later that month Viggo and Trudie were married in the American Embassy in London by special licence, David was his best man and Meg was Trudie’s matron of honour. They flew straight back to Buenos Aires, Viggo’s delighted and relieved parents fell for Trudie’s smile immediately and organised a huge fiesta to welcome home their son and his new wife.

The following year an overwhelmed and delighted Viggo held his son, Henry Viggo Sean Mortensen in his arms. A few days later he found time to ride out, returning for the first time to little arroyo where he had danced the tango with his lover under stars. He held out his arms to the wind and embraced the memory of his lost love, whispering that while he would never forget, life had given him another chance at happiness. He had a wonderful wife and now a son. The wind was warm, gentle and caressing; he smiled and blew a kiss before turning away to his horse and the journey home.

The night before Henry’s christening Viggo took his son outside and held him up to the night sky. It seemed right to show his son to the moon, the stars and heaven, to celebrate his birth. To give thanks for the happiness he now knew, to honour again the never forgotten night when they danced under the moon and stars. The warm, gentle breeze ruffled the baby’s hair, dark grey eyes looked up wonderingly at Viggo and a tiny hand reached up to touch his face.

Chapter 16

If they asked me I could write a book

London BBC TV studios 2004

Earlier they had discussed the questions that the interviewer would ask and what they would cover, especially the subject matter of his latest book. He now stood quietly between Henry and his god son Sean, leaning on his walking stick, his hand trembling slightly, waiting to go out before the studio audience. Though he was old he was still a fine looking man, tall, elegant with slightly long silver hair brushed back from a sharp planed face with something of an eagle in the clear, steady regard of his grey eyes.

He had admitted to himself that this would have to be his last journey. Two days and then flying straight back to his home on Long Island, he could almost weep with longing for his terrace, his lounger and most of all the view of the sea. The sound of the sea, the connection with the ocean that soothed him, for did not all waters merge and become one in their ceaseless journey round the planet, did not the essence of Sean still live in the waves? It was his pleasure to sometimes imagine in the setting sun, the faces of those who now only lived in his heart and in the murmur of the sea. Dearest Trudie, David, Harry even Megs gone. A gentle touch on his arm
‘Dad’ whispered Henry.
He shook his head and became aware of the applause and the interviewer holding out his hand to welcome him, he walked slowly out into the studio lights.
‘Mr Mortensen, welcome back to ‘Behind the Book’ the programme that looks at the stories behind the books. They shook hands. Please...’ the host said indicating the chair facing him.
‘Thank you, pleasure to be here again James’ replied Viggo.
‘Well you have certainly been busy writing since your retirement ten years ago, last year you published a well received book on the importance of the tango to the Argentine nation, called ‘In the shadows’ and of course your brilliant book ‘Loaves and fishes’ which won several awards. In it you lauded the unsung heroes after the second world war who struggled to feed the hungry in Europe.’ He paused looking across at Viggo to signal they were now going to talk about his latest and most controversial book. Viggo smiled back nodding.
‘At the end of ‘Loaves and fishes’ you write of meeting your wife, Trudie, in Berlin, so forgive me, but many are shocked by the subject matter of your latest book, which is also autobiographical and begins just before the start of WW2 and ends in September 1940. It is the story of a ‘love affair’ you had with a young pilot who died in the Battle of Britain at the beginning of the war. Sean Bean’ he paused.
Viggo nodded and answered
‘Yes, he was the love of my life, I made a solemn promise when he died that one day I would be able to acknowledge and tell the world about our love. That one day we would not have to hide our love in the shadows anymore; I would honour the great love we had.’ He paused, blinking back and swallowing the easy tears of old age then sitting up straight again he continued
‘I shared our story many years ago with both my family and Sean’s family, although Sean’s sister Meg always knew the truth. Some of them were surprised but not angry, disappointed or upset. Indeed after thinking about it and us talking about the love Sean and I had for each other they were happy that this beautiful, loving, vibrant young man whose life was so cruelly cut short had the chance to be in a relationship founded on love. That he and I together experienced that most precious of gifts, romantic love between two people.’
The interviewer leant forward
‘I understand that in those times you could both have been sent to prison for having such a ‘relationship’ and indeed you do write about being discrete, not flaunting your sexuality nor your affair. Yet this book is full of the fun you had in your short time together. The places you went, the people you met. The love you felt for each other and your utter despair when he was killed.’
Viggo drew a deep breath and began,
‘In those days people were both smarter and dumber than nowadays. A lot of people simply saw us as good friends enjoying each other’s company, as indeed we were on one level; they enjoyed our friendship as we did theirs.’ People didn’t sit discussing themselves so much or pondering deeply on who might be doing what to whom. ‘Sean and Viggo’ were just good friends they enjoyed having around, part of the gang. If they did suspect they never mentioned nor commented. It may have been as long as we were discrete they were OK with it, could be they just liked as for who and what we were. Who knows? On the other hand a lot of people then as now thought homosexual men deserved prison, even death. Those people were dumb because they never realised how many of their war heroes, their writers, artists, screen stars etc were gay. Gay people, who were forced to hide their loves in the shadows and deny an important part of their identity. Some people are not intelligent enough to realise that who you love and what you do in the bedroom does not affect your contribution to society.’
He drew breath again then continued
‘Other people who knew about our love for each other, David, Meg, Harry a few very dear friends never saw the need to either condemn or gossip about us. We were so very fortunate to have had the comfort and support of these people. As you can see I have waited many years to be able to get this book published, the law is changing, things are slowly changing for the better. At least in some parts of the world gay and bi men and women are now legally able to be as they were born to be and to declare their love their love openly.’ The interviewer nodded, leant forward again folding hands together steepling his forefingers and pointing them towards Viggo.
‘Yes, I understand, agree and appreciate what you say, but how do you answer the bishops and some of the churches both here and in America, who have denounced your book and urged people to boycott it, burn it etc. They say you are encouraging homosexual relationships and they quote from the Bible citing various passages?’
He smiled adding ‘I don’t think they want you in their heaven’
‘Indeed, dear me, nor do I want to go to their heaven’ laughed Viggo.
‘Let me explain what I believe. These religions all claim a ‘god’ made us, fine, therefore he made some of us with a different sexual orientation. Now all these religions also claim they are about this god’s love for the people he made. If what they say is true then surely he must be a terribly mean god if he or indeed she created some people gay. Did this god mean for those people to be singled out to live alone without the love of a partner? Are these people, his or her creations, forbidden to ever express this love on pain of prison, even death in some countries and of course everlasting hell. No, for me there is only love, I gave my love and shared my soul, heart and body with a man. Some years later I was lucky enough to meet a most wise, understanding woman whom I loved and still love dearly and with whom I shared a different kind of love and my heart and body.’
The host waited a few seconds for Viggo to compose himself.
‘But not your soul? The interviewer asked gently.
‘No, not my soul. One of the things Trudie and I shared was our loss, her fiancé Jim went down with the Lexington, we healed each other, loved each other, when she died a little more of me died, she was an incredible, loving woman and may I add the mother of an incredible son.’
‘You seem to dismiss religion and yet you talk of the soul, what does that mean to you personally?’
‘Most of us learn to love our partners, attraction turns to friendship to love, but for some, like Sean and I our souls met, we loved from the first moment. We did not need to wait or discover if we could be friends or whether we both liked the same food, movies etc. or even if we were compatible. It was simply like the immediate fusing of what I can only describe as our souls, the deepest, most sacred and untouched part of us, as if that meeting, those few precious months was predestined. When I met Trudie, we became friends first, and then close friends, and then several years later we were able to share with each other the terrible burden of loss and the weight of remembering the dead. We fell into a gentle warm love which I still treasure and although she has been gone five years now, everyday I remember her. The story behind the book is really so simple, an old romantic writing about his first love.’
‘Well you make it sound so simple and as one old romantic to another the chapter where you dance the tango with Sean I must admit brought a tear to my eye.’
Viggo looked down smiling; he would keep his own tears for later. The host smiled warmly at Viggo then shaking him by the hand and to the applause of the audience he said
‘Ladies and gentlemen, we have been privileged tonight to talk to our distinguished guest the acclaimed author Viggo Mortensen’

The camera then panned to the large poster for the book on an easel. The cover showed a black and white photograph of two young, handsome men, smiling in the sunshine of more than sixty years ago, Sean’s arm negligently resting across the back of Viggo’s chair, the book’s title in black Courier print
‘Media Luz.’

‘Uncle Vigs you knocked it to them, good for you’ said Sean as he hugged him.
‘Dad, I am so proud of you’ Henry repeated several times.

Chapter 17

Come fly with me

Henry, Sean and Viggo drove down to Dover the following morning. It was a pilgrimage Viggo made each time he came to England, staying outside the busy port town in a small country hotel, driving out and enjoying the country side, a good lunch then late afternoon to the cliffs to stand and stare out at the sea and spend a little time thinking about a pair of green eyes and a killer smile.
Sean drove the winding lanes in the mild September sunshine talking quietly to Henry. Viggo sat, as always, in the back craning his neck and staring out from the car windows up into the sky. In his imagination he saw the white trails looping and tiny silver planes writing death across the sky and sent love from the very depths of his soul out towards the ghosts of all those lost young men.

They stopped for lunch and a breeze had started to cool the fragile September warmth.
‘You sure you want to go to the cliffs today, it’s getting a bit chilly. Maybe tomorrow morning when you are not so tired’ suggested Henry.
‘No, I’m fine I just need a few minutes there. Tomorrow early, we will leave for London, I promise’
‘Well, if you’re sure, come on Sean my turn to drive’
A little later Viggo sat on his favourite bench. It was quiet, very few people around; a few seagulls circling and plaintively calling, the air was now autumnal cool and damp. Henry tucked Viggo’s scarf warmly around his father’s neck,
‘Five minutes Dad, just going over with Sean to that burger van to get some hot coffee for you then we are going to go straight back to the hotel, get you warmed up and have an early dinner. Good bottle of red should do the trick’ He held his father’s hands gently rubbing them ‘Your hands are so cold, back in a few minutes’ he dropped a kiss on his father’s head and walked briskly across to Sean.

Viggo sat and watched the grey, sullen sea, the sun had disappeared. He thought of his dear Trudie dead these five years but then, as always, his mind turned to Sean, to that magic time they spent together, those few months that had had to last him a lifetime.

The clouds must have broken a little to let the sun shine through; he felt the warmth and vaguely heard the sound of an engine. Time stretched then dissolved as he slowly turned his head to the side, in the golden warm light he saw an arm around his shoulder, hugging him, warming him, an arm with perfect golden hairs catching the sunlight. A soft voice remembered in the recesses of his mind for over sixty years whispered to him ‘Come fly with me’ he looked up into that killer smile and those gentle green eyes’

‘At last’ he murmured, happiness filled his heart and he turned his head slowly into a well remembered kiss.

Sean finished paying for the drinks and Henry turned from the wind and lit their cigarettes.
‘Be the last time over here for Dad’ he commented as the over full plastic cup he was holding spilled hot coffee onto his hand, then he looked up
‘Look at that, the sun’s rays where the cloud has broken through it’s simply beautiful; can you hear that plane engine it seems so very low, very close?’
‘Yes, sounds like a plane, a small one’ replied Sean looking around at the sky. ‘From the sound it seems to be heading out across the channel, look at that, look what the crazy bugger is doing’ he added pointing as the tiny plane, caught in the last ray of sunshine did a victory role before vanishing. Then they both turned at the same time and caught sight of the figure now slumped on the bench; dropping the drinks they ran the last few yards.
Weeping, Henry cuddled his father into his arms, burying his head into the warm neck. Sean knelt and held Viggo’s hands, then touched Viggo’s cheek garnering the solitary tear in the corner of Viggo’s eye which he touched to his lips. Henry sat up and kissing his father’s face he noticed the gentle half smile on his father’s lips. They looked at each other and smiled through their tears.
‘You heard that plane, we saw it touched by the sun, we saw that victory roll, then it vanished, do you think, is it possible..?


Mad about the boy

The moon stood still, filling the sky with pale transparent light and the sea endlessly, romantically, whispered its message to the sand. On the terrace Sean and Henry stretched out on their loungers, drinking, talking and watching the sea. It was peaceful, their wives away for the night in New York on a visit to the theatre.
Sean sat up, looked around, listened then asked
‘How often does it happen?’
‘Just now and again, especially when the moon is full and the sea is calm’
They raised their glasses ‘Viggo and Sean’ they toasted.
Then they sat in silence and listened to the echoes from a time long ago and far away, the sounds of laughter, a piano and a wistful voice singing ‘Mad about the boy.’
Last edited by sharpshooter1 on Mon May 09, 2011 3:12 pm, edited 4 times in total.
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Post by hegihe » Tue Dec 15, 2009 10:01 pm

I don`t know if I can find the words to describe how utterly wonderful I find this story....Made me cry it did but its so beautiful written, thank you so much for sharing!!!! :-D :-D :-D :thankyou:
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Post by Astrid Hagen » Tue Dec 15, 2009 11:06 pm

An extraordinary story, thank you, dear! abighugs_gif
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Post by Czechmade » Wed Dec 16, 2009 6:33 am

abighugs_gif You already know how much I love this wonderful story abighugs_gif :flower:
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Post by sharpshooter1 » Wed Dec 16, 2009 10:06 am

So glad you have enjoyed it. It is written with love for all those who loved and lost.

Checked this morning, so sorry some of the links do not seem to be working -some nonsense about copywrite?? They worked when I first checked on it after uploading it yesterday!!!
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Post by Moominmamma » Wed Dec 16, 2009 11:33 am

Managed to get here for a sneaky read. It's a beautiful story and made me cry, but in a good way. Thank you. :-D
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Post by sharpshooter1 » Wed Dec 16, 2009 11:41 am

Thanks, so glad you enjoyed it - I think it worked well telling it from Viggo's pov. Merry Christmas.
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Mad about the boy

Post by pthalo » Wed May 11, 2011 10:07 am

Sharps, you said I would enjoy this and what a beautifully written story, so loving, so sad. I had to read it in stages as the tears in my eyes made it impossible to read on until I had composed myself abighugs_gif Well done once again
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Post by sharpshooter1 » Wed May 11, 2011 12:27 pm

I am delighted that you enjoyed it - I loved writing it, in fact it seemed to write itself. Even I cried at times. :cry:
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Post by Cymbalom » Thu May 12, 2011 12:50 pm

Sharps, what an incredibly beautiful romance! I stayed up half the night re-reading parts of it and bawling. You are a very talented writer --- really!

Angie :bow: :bow: :bow:
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Post by sharpshooter1 » Thu May 12, 2011 1:40 pm

:-D Very happy you have enjoyed this story - as I think I have said before it even makes me cry!
Sean and Viggo are perfect together - like strawberries and cream.
Many thanks for your kind comments.
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Post by morvgal58 » Sat Feb 18, 2012 1:52 pm

Dear Sharps, have been spending this cold, dreary Saturday reading the Fan Fiction and thoroughly enjoyed all your posts. However, I have just finished 'Mad about the boy' and am in floods of tears. What an absolutely exquisite story. Thank you so much, it was so incredibly moving that I know I will return to it many times. Bless you.
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Post by sharpshooter1 » Mon Feb 20, 2012 5:41 am

Dear morvgal58
I am delighted that you enjoyed 'Mad about the boy.' Writing about Sean and Viggo is such a pleasure and to know other people have enjoyed the stories is the best of gifts.
Hugs S x
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