Free The Four Last Things by Andrew Taylor Page B

first to make a noise louder than a whisper.
    There were other games. Alison, though younger than Eddie, knew many more than he did. It was she who usually took the lead. It was she who suggested the Peeing Game.
    ‘You don’t know it?’ Her lips formed an O of surprise, behind which gleamed her milk-white teeth and tip of her tongue. ‘I thought everyone knew the Peeing Game.’
    ‘I’ve heard about it. It’s just that I’ve never played it.’
    ‘My brother and I’ve been playing it for years.’
    Eddie nodded, hoping she would not expose his ignorance still further.
    ‘We need something to pee into.’ Alison took his assent for granted. ‘Come on. There must be something in here.’
    Eddie glanced round the shed. He was embarrassed even by the word ‘pee’. In the Grace household the activity of urination was referred to, when it was mentioned at all, by the euphemism ‘spending a penny’. His eye fell on an empty jam jar on a shelf at the back of the shed. The glass was covered on both sides with a film of grime. ‘How about that?’
    Alison shook her head, and the pink ribbons danced in her hair. ‘It’s far too small. I can do tons more than that. Anyway, it wouldn’t do. The hole’s too small.’ Something of Eddie’s lack of understanding must have shown in his face. ‘It’s all right for you. You can just poke your willy inside. But with girls it goes everywhere.’
    Curiosity stirred in Eddie’s mind, temporarily elbowing aside the awkwardness. He picked up a tin. ‘What about this?’
    Alison examined it, her face serious. The tin was about six inches in diameter and had once contained paint. ‘It’ll do.’ She added with the air of one conferring a favour, ‘You can go first.’
    His muscles clenched themselves, as they did when he was about to step into cold water.
    ‘Boys always go first,’ Alison announced. ‘My brother Simon does.’
    There seemed no help for it. Eddie turned away from her and began to unbutton the flies of his khaki shorts. Without warning she appeared in front of him. She was carrying the paint tin.
    ‘You have to take your trousers and pants down. Simon does.’
    He hesitated. His lower lip trembled.
    ‘It’s only a game, stupid. Don’t be such a baby. Here – I’ll do it.’
    She dropped the tin with a clatter on the concrete floor. Brisk as a nurse, she undid the snakeskin buckle of his elasticated belt, striped with the colours of his school, green and purple. Before he could protest, she yanked down both the shorts and his Aertex pants in one swift movement. She stared down at him. He was ashamed of his body, the slabs of pink babyish fat that clung to his belly and his thighs. A boy at the swimming baths had once said that Eddie wobbled like a jelly.
    Still staring, Alison said, ‘It’s smaller than Simon’s. And he’s a roundhead.’
    To his relief, Eddie understood the reference: Simon was circumcised. ‘I’m a cavalier.’
    ‘I think I like cavaliers better. They’re prettier.’ She scooped up the tin. ‘Go on – pee.’
    She held out the tin. Eddie gripped his penis between the forefinger and thumb of his right hand, shut his eyes and prayed. Nothing happened. In normal circumstances he would have had no trouble in going because his bladder was full.
    ‘If you’re going to take all day, I might as well go first.’ Alison glared at him. ‘Honestly. Simon never has any trouble.’
    She placed the tin on the floor, pulled down her knickers and squatted. A steady stream of urine squirted into the can. She raised the hem of her dress and examined it, as though inspecting the quality of the stitching. So that was what girls looked like down there, Eddie thought, still holding his penis; he had often wondered. He craned his neck, hoping for a better view, but Alison smiled demurely and rearranged her dress.
    ‘If you keep on rubbing your willy, it goes all funny. Did you know?’ Alison raised herself from the tin and pulled up her