Under Eighteens Party

Overnight, several posters appeared in the most unlikely of places - trees near the line of march of the Second Division, various places aboard His Majesty's Frigate Terpsichore, around the Crown itself. The posters were all identical:

The poster caught Terry's eye because of the different pictures on it. He'd never seen pictures like that before - they didn't look like the drawings and things he was used to. Nobody else seemed to notice it, for some strange reason. And as he stared at it, the writing on it began to make sense, which didn't make sense, because he couldn't read. A party? Where was the Crown, though, and how was he supposed to get there?

"Yeah, I'd love to," he said, unaware he'd spoken aloud. He blinked as the ship seemed to disappear and he found himself in a large room with colourful streamers and balloons up on the walls.

"Where am I, and what 'appens now?" he asked, looking around. It was so much nicer than anything he'd ever known and the floor felt strangely soft and warm under his feet. He looked down to find he was standing on carpet. "Coo!"

"Hey!..."Where did the lad disappear to. One moment he was there, and the next. Gone. Disappeared. As if he had never been on board. And instead of him there was a strange poster. Not with drawings, nor paintings at all, but with something... well, he guessed it had to be a very realistic painting and whoever did it had to have been a master at art.

He peered at the leaflet and read it. A party. And the leaflet even had his picture on it! As it had of Button. And of some he recognized and then some he did not. What on earth was this?

Before he was able to think further he landed right beside Button, blinking at the carpet and at the balloons. "What on?..."

Oxley didn't see what had happened to the other two boys, but he did see the poster and stopped to look at it. Strange pictures it had - and wasn't that young Terry Button and Buckles - and the Shepherds? How strange!

And a moment later he was standing right next to Buckles and Button, blinking in the light. He rubbed his eyes. "What's goin' on?" he asked, looking around.

Fletcher poked a balloon experimentally. It was brightly coloured, and definitely real.

"I think this is the party," he hazarded.

"For us? " He looked at Fletcher and recognising the lad quickly added. "Sir?" Who would organize a party for them? What were they celebrating? He prodded the balloon. "Shall we see what else is there?" Eager to inspect the room thoroughly. See if there was drink, and food and what else the anonymous person had planned for them!

"There's food over there," Fletcher said, pointing out a long trestle table with what looked like a generous buffet on it. "And it is party food. Look, they have mini sausage rolls!"

"But where's the musicians? Doesn't a party need them? " And ladies and dances, and.. he could think only of what he could imagine as a party. Food was a start though and drink! He grinned. "Let's try wot' they've got! Think there'll be lots o' others coming, sir. Did you see t' leaflet? T' paper with pictures? There was lots o' boys an' all painted on those!"

Food. That was what had caught Fingers' attention most quickly. He stared at the well-laden table with wide-eyed awe.

"So much of it," he observed. Was it all just for them?

A pair of taller boys padded past him to help themselves to the spread. "Who's wantin' musicians then?" One of them asked. It was the Shepherd twins, looking strange without their red jackets.

"Depends if they're any good," replied Fletcher, helping himself to a sausage roll. He bit into the pastry, which was very good.

"Hey, You're willing to play us a tune? Or just rattle against the table?" De Guarde turned to look at the SHepherds. His gaze did not linger on them for too long. He glanced back at Fletcher. "..Do you know to play an instrument yourself, sir?"

"No," replied Fletcher, through a mouthful of sausage roll.

One of the twins smirked. "Mebbe we are. In a bit!"

"S'that fer ever'body?" Finger asked, pointing a grubby hand at the table.

"Yeshph," said Fletcher, taking up another sausage roll.

"Sure is.. don't say it isn't 'tleast." De Guarde looked around to make sure, but then all those boys were on the invitation paper. Meant, that it was for them if not for anybody above 18. "..Go ahead. " He motioned and took a sausage roll to see if it was really as good as Fletcher's eager snatching them up, was suggesting.

Go ahead. That was good enough for Fingers. He stood on tip-toes and snatched a couple pastries off a plate. Half of one disappeared into his mouth an instant later.

"S'goo'!"

The strange leaflet had fluttered past him, caught up amidst a trail of dust from a passing wagon. Charlie had chased it and stared at it in bewilderment. There were small paintings of boys, with a couple girls, and a bunch of words that, at first, made no sense. Even more strangely, however, the words became clearly and he could decipher them. But that wasn't possible!

A party? For him? "But I don't - "

He found himself speaking to a strange room, with a plush carpet on the floor and unearthly decorations on the walls. There were other boys there too. And a table. A table with food. Charlie's stomach gurgled loudly and he dropped the leaflet to hurry forward. Food. There was so much of it! He almost didn't dare touch any of it, for fear it might disappear like the road and the hills and all the wagons had.

"Dun' talk with your mouth full. Ain't proper." De Guarde finished his roll and took a slice of what appeared to be a fruit. A watermelon known to most, it looked rather juicy and ..indeed rather watery. He gave a small bit of it and grinned.

"You there." He said, when he saw another boy running up towards the table. He smiled and added. "Firs' introduce yeself, an' then have wot' ever you like." Because he did not know him, and he had known all the other boys appearing already.

"Shurrup then! You can talk!" Terry said and grinned, waving jauntily at the new arrival, a boy he didn't recognise. Well... that he only recognised from the little picture on the poster he'd seen before coming here. "'Elp yourself. We 'ave." He picked up a sausage roll and stuffed it, whole, into his mouth.

"I can talk wot'? I know you n' t' rest ." He poked his tongue out at Button very childlishly and anything but like a gentleman. " Don't be a problem if he tells us who he is 'fore he eats!" He scoffed. " Didn't tell him ter sing us a song an' perform like a dancin' bear. No." He took a bite out of the fruit. Good, it was good.

Oxley had taken his coat off and left it neatly over the back of a chair. He approached the new arrival, smiling. "I'm Tom Oxley, this's Buckles, that's Fingers Smith, an' that's Terry Button," he said. "Come and help y'rself to some food. It's real nice, the stuff they've put out for us."

The other boys seemed friendly enough. Charlie never took his gaze off the laden table when he replied, " 'M Charlie." He reached slowly for a sausage roll, half-expecting some scowling old camp follower to appear and swat his hand away. "S'this... all for us?"

Terry had just crammed another sausage roll into his mouth, and nodded. "Seems t'be... Did you see a funny poster wiv a load of pichers on it, where you was?"

Fletcher stood to one side, watching the other boys curiously, but keeping out of the way, chewing experimentally what appeared to be a mini chicken pie. Oxley had left him out of the introductions - nothing changed there - and so he would stay back and wait to see what happened. He would not mind sitting here by himself, sneaking the odd bit of food off the buffet table, but he had hoped that at this party someone might, just might, pay attention to him. Otherwise what was the point of going to parties in the first place?

All of this, just for them. It couldn't be. But the other boys were helping themselves with nobody telling them otherwise. That meant it had to be safe. Charlie swiped some crumbs from his mouth and looked around.

"Who's he?" He felt a little odd, being the only one not wearing some sort of clean clothing. It also seemed that the other boys already knew each other. Another thing to be wary of. But there was food and they seemed willing enough to share. It couldn't be that bad, then.