Aladdin's Awakening by Joel

Pa and Tony were overjoyed with my second son. He was named after both of them - James Antony. The way Tony fussed over him when he returned from his holiday was quite incredible. Kats said he'd make a good mother! There was a great similarity between my two boys. Both were quiet babies, even though Francis now was just beginning to try to talk. I took him out every day in his pushchair and never tired of carrying him and chatting to him. I still had other work to do. Mr Blane had sent me a French manuscript at Easter and asked if I would attempt a translation. It was an odd book, a mixture of religion and mysticism, but I learned a lot of new vocabulary and ways of saying things. There were numerous very obscure passages and I sent a draft up to London to Ma to see if she knew what it was about. I was pleased with her comment that she could not have translated it better! Still, even she couldn't iron out some of the knottier passages. I would have to ask Dr Blake, or the philosophy student on the stair above me, who I was sure would be able to help.

Tony was full of his trip to stay with his rugger pals. He and Perce were now shagging each other at every opportunity. He also confessed that both he and Perce had sucked and wanked the other two and Cas, the Welsh lad, was a real randy little sod and on the final night when Perce and Phil Laker had got so drunk they were fast asleep, Cas had fucked him. He'd got lots of other tales, especially about Perce's elder brother who was a Captain in the Horse Guards. Perce said it was quite true that there were fairies at the bottoms of our Guardsmen. In fact, Perce's cousin often hired the young soldiers as attendants for his dinner parties and the other two the first night he'd been were, in fact, young Guardsmen.

I also found out Tony, crafty toad, had been to more of these dinners without telling me. He said Billy Clarke had been at another one and it was all he could do not to whisper his name. He sniggered and said at that one the serving lads had very short white Greek kilts with gold edging and white jockstraps underneath and gold circlets round their foreheads, ankles and right biceps. He said that was the first night he'd been fucked by one of the other attendants who had stayed on afterwards and shared his and Perce's bed. He put his hand on my arm and shook his head. “Nothing so good as you!” He was still hunting for his ideal partner.

Just before the end of September we took Francis and James up to Chester for my grandparents to see them. Uncle Edward was driving up from London and collected us and ferried the four of us up there. We were staying in the old big house where Uncle Edward and Aunt Della now lived, with Grandpa and Grandma happily settled in a much smaller house very close. My grandparents were so delighted. Their first great-grandchildren! I don't think the four of us could have been fussed over more. Little Julia took charge of Francis and they played happily together in the garden. It seemed odd, my cousin playing with my son and she only three years older.

While we were there Rhys and Alun turned up on the back of an old motor-bike which Alun had bought and repaired. Rhys had been down to Cardiff for a holiday and was now returning to the family law practice where he was now a trainee solicitor. He lodged with Grandpa and Grandma and was a ebullient as ever. Alun was now a fully-fledged engineer working for a thriving company.

I was given a real roasting when the boys got me alone. Big-cock, randy-balls, what the hell did a nice girl like Kats see in me? And so on. I pointed out they'd answered the question by the names they'd called me. As we were at that moment sitting up by the pond where we'd taken Francis in his push-chair, Francis soon witnessed the stripping of his father of his shorts and shirt so they could check if his attributes had increased since they'd seen them last.

Unfortunately, as I had not had the opportunity to rid myself of the build-up of my spunk for two days, young Francis almost witnessed his first ejaculation, but, luckily, had nodded off, as his poor father was held down and tickled and his foreskin pulled back to check for wear and tear. About three or four tugs were all that was necessary for randy-balls Jacko to spill his seed like the parrot - no, I mean the biblical Onan! Not to be outdone they shucked their shorts and underpants there and then and gave a brotherly display, kneeling either side of me, that their equipment was also still fully functional.

I had taunted them, in a cousinly way, with still being virgins and I said they were very lucky their tackle was all still OK after all the years of use and misuse and they'd better get cracking so it could have proper use. They threatened to dunk me in the cold, cold waters of the pond and that would shrivel my ardour. I heard that at long last their brother, Gareth, had conquered the young man's Everest, as he and his long-time girlfriend, Jennifer Quigley, were to be married at Easter and they had celebrated their engagement by a weekend away at some secluded hotel where no questions were asked.... She was now a qualified doctor. I also heard that Uncle Dick was rising sharply in the firmament. With the Nationalisation of the steel industry he had been made chairman of some very powerful governmental committee. Both boys had hitched up with girlfriends. Rhys had broken off with his Cardiff one and was now wooing one of the secretaries in the office. Alun was still going steady with the sister of a friend and, wait for it, the lad with the giant-size tool had four kids now.

I had to tell them that married life wasn't all getting one's end away, as it were. This was especially so in my case as I was away at Cambridge. They were amused, then solicitous, when I said I'd had about as much solitary sex in my married life as I was having before. I pointed out there were also times in the month, long periods when your wife was pregnant and then, after the child was born, one couldn't resume one's conjugal relations for some time. Neither had realised this and wondered if it was worth-while getting married. I pointed to the push-chair and said that was the worth-while reason!

They wanted to know about all that happened at Cambridge. They were highly amused at my description of Tony going off to his dinners in London and seeing the lad we both knew. I told them Tony had enthused about the food he'd had served to him. On a Roman night they had started with oysters and then something which was supposed to be roasted larks' tongues. Rhys giggled.

All too soon I had to go back to Cambridge. My final year. Then, perhaps I might be able to provide for my growing family. Towards the end of term Dr Blake was humming and hawing at the end of one of my tutorials. I had reported that Bruce was doing fine and that the other two of my mentor group were very enthusiastic. At last he got round to telling me that the Modern Language faculty had had a meeting to discuss Junior Research Fellowships for the next year. I had been recommended, but not only that, there was a joint governmental scheme between the English and French authorities for an exchange of emerging scholars and, if I was agreeable, my name would be put forward for this scheme. He knew my interest was in eighteenth century French Literature and that would be most acceptable if I could fine it down. I could be registered both for the L es L, the French equivalent of the BA, and also put my research forward for a doctorate and possibly for a full Fellowship. I was flabbergasted!! I had realised I was quite good. I was nowhere, in my little mind, as good as a couple of the lads who were doing Maths degrees or that very bright Philosophy student above me on my stair who had examined some of the concepts in the book I had translated over the summer. Having a drink with them was an experience as ideas and abstractions were bandied too and fro. I hoped I could keep my end up - they never told me I was a fool as I managed to shut up when I realised I was getting out of my depth. Perhaps I had other strengths!

All this had to be cogitated on as it would mean Kats and I and the boys living in Paris as I would be attached to the Sorbonne. The stipend wouldn't be huge, trust a Labour government and parsimonious Frogs, but living expenses would be adequately covered. Tony was all enthusiastic and that was that. He was also over the moon as he had been offered a research grant towards a BPhil degree. He confided in me that he was going to spend most of the year writing a novel.

The reports at Christmas from Charley were that things were better than he could ever have anticipated. His foot was now straight, one size smaller than the other, but who cared! He didn't! When could he see us all? He was busy now helping his father run the estate but there was always a place for us to stay.

The whole story came out. This friend had been asked by his sister outright if he would be willing to be a sperm donor. He had freaked out, not realising his sister even knew the word, or even where the stuff came from. He had placed his sister on a pedestal forgetting she was personal assistant to a very famous consultant. When he calmed down she informed him quite firmly she had known what her little brother was doing in his room from the age of thirteen and a half and if he made as much noise now as he did then and for the next five years, she was certain his flat mates must be fed up.

As he knew his flat mates made similar noises he had passed on the message and both Nobbo and Cleggy were now going regularly on Thursday mornings at eight thirty to Harley Street, where, in a small side room they wanked off into small jars independently and consecutively. They collected five pounds each and were very happy to do it. The friend and their other flat mate provided their contributions on Tuesdays. Nobbo said the friend was still very apprehensive but as his sister had been aware for all those years of his regular habit he'd carry on now containing his embarrassment as the five pounds a week was a steady income for something he did anyway.

Tony and I said they'd had plenty of practice themselves, especially tossing off into small jars, when they did their so-called scientific survey. We also wanted to know who the women were. They said they were never told, but there had been a lot of men who had become impotent through illness, or injury, or being in prisoner-of-war camps during the war. I thought to myself that I didn't think Hans was in that category as Tom and I had seen a goodly output of his spunk that day we had spied on him. The secretary had let slip there were Italian women, too and dark-haired donors were a must for them and that was why certain students were chosen rather than others. So, Nobbo and Cleggy could be parents without knowing their children. Or even how many they produced. And, might be Italian children, too. Fancy turning up in Rome or Florence and not realising there were little Nobbos and Cleggys abounding! Odd, very odd!!

Both Flea and Lachs came to visit after Christmas. Mr and Mrs Marcham liked having visitors and were very accommodating having all my friends to visit. Anyway, no one could not like the brothers. Separately they were good company, when together they were great fun. Flea was the second to arrive and stayed on for a few days after his poor, harassed brother went off. Lachs had got his second pip so had the mickey taken about having to lick the Colonel's boots, or worse, to get it. I heard Flea squeal more than once when he was summarily punished for some wild quip or rude suggestion.

As soon as Lachs had gone Flea got all confidential. Had Lachs told us about him and Audrey Milverton? Lachs was sniffing round her in great earnest according to her brother Antony. Wow, Audrey Milverton! After appearing in a couple of films she was now in a long-running play in the West End. She was always being interviewed, especially in the tabloid press, as she was quite a stunner. She had been linked with several young men, but, according to Flea, most of this was pure supposition. She and Lachs had been spending as much time as possible together. No! As far as Flea knew they hadn't. But! He wouldn't be surprised if Lachs lost his virginity that way before long. Wait and see! He giggled as he said she was taller than he was but he didn't think that would matter because Lachs was most well-endowed! And we both knew how randy he was, didn't we? I leaned over and put my face close to his. “Speak for yourself, Pilot Officer Pullitoff!”

Also, Antony was doing very well. His initial screen performance had meant he'd been signed up by one of the better British film studios. He had turned out to be a much more likeable young man, according to Flea. In fact, they both came to Cambridge and stayed for a weekend and I employed Lord Harford's largesse for our benefit. Tony and his friend Perce came too and we had a most convivial evening under the watchful eye of old Bert at the Blue Boar. Antony was really as beautiful as he appeared on screen and I could see both Tony and Perce sizing him up. There was much speculation later that week when Tony came round for his usual tea and chat. Were Flea and Antony having it off? I said I didn't know and he wasn't to spread any rumours! I knew they both had invites to visit him and Perce in London, I guessed at the cousin's.

However, I didn't have much time to ruminate on such matters as this term was going to be the most important time of my life so far. I had to do well. I concentrated on my work and really enjoyed it. It was odd, but Jem and Sam kept me going as well. Jem made sure I was clean and tidy. Sam sent round all sorts of chef's tidbits to go with my mid-morning pot of tea.. I went for long walks most afternoons, my leg being almost back to my old strength, working out in my mind all the possible things the wily examiners could ask me. Jem and Sam made full use of my absences and the pair were so, so close.

So, the examinations came. My vivas in French and German were taken by dons from other colleges with a Professor from, I think, Durham, as the external examiner in one of them. He questioned me very closely on a set of medieval French poems I'd studied with Dr Blake and I knew I was well in control. What did I make of 'Si tu dures Trop malade, Couleur fade Tu prendras, Et perdras L'embonpoint'? I launched into a lengthy diatribe about the beauty of this poem and of others by the same poet, Marot. I even managed to dredge up lines from another poet and compared the two showing how the tight syllabic structure pushed the Marot poem on but in the other the sinuous lines did a similar job. The old boy nodded sagely and then fired three quick questions in German, even though I was not going to have my viva in that language until a couple of days later. I must have done my best as one of the Cambridge dons present, when he saw me to the door, whispered he was glad I had cheered the old buffer up! I think he said 'buffer'.

So, the final written exam loomed. This, in fact was very late on in the examination period. Tony had finished his ordeal two days previously. This one was an afternoon paper, three hours from two until five. Overall, I thought I'd done reasonably well in the others I had taken. There were questions on particular parts of the syllabus I knew well so I thought I would get at least a third, perhaps a second. I couldn't judge myself.

I was just coming out of the examination halls after this final paper, chatting to Frankie Thornley who had taken the same paper, when I saw three figures standing in a row. They were the College Dean, the Chaplain and Tony. Tony looked as if he could hardly stand and the Chaplain was holding on to his arm. Behind him stood the King's College Chaplain looking very woebegone.

“Got to see you urgently,” he said and we walked quickly and entered an ante-room. Tony followed him. “Better sit down,” he said. I looked at Tony. His face was streaked with tears. The Dean, who, over the three years I had grown to respect as a very fair-minded and most generous person, looked particularly distraught. “I have to tell you, there's been a serious accident,” he began.

My thoughts were racing. My parents-in-law had decided to hire a nursemaid for the boys. Kats had wanted to go back to work and did so three mornings a week. Roo had bought himself a prewar little car - a bit of a racing car, which he'd informed me was pretty fast and would go like the clappers in the summer with the hood down. That summer would not come.

I was still in my examination togs and a very subdued Jem brought over my everyday clothes and I had just changed when Pa appeared. We hugged each other and that was when my flood-gates burst. We clung to each other and both wept. After that all was a bit hazy. I remember thanking the Dean and Chaplain and I remember getting into Mr Marcham's car with Pa, with Tony already sitting on the back seat. I remember seeing Willy and Jem closing the doors of the car and their haggard looks. My only consolation was a whispered comment by the Dean as he said good-bye through the window of the car. “The examiners have awarded you a First without what you did on today's paper.”

Pa stayed and Ma came up from London. They were a great strength for me. And also for Tony. Mr and Mrs Marcham were pillars as well. It was strange. From that first night back Tony and I slept together. Quite, quite, without any other connotations but a deep friendship and sincere companionship. Of course, I had to see Roo's parents and his beloved brother, Kanga. Kanga was in his first year at King's College London but was at his parents' side immediately. A very welcome visitor was Flea who wangled a whole week's leave and talked to me of so many things. He sat next to me at the inquest. It was an open verdict. An accident. The lorry driver was in hospital but it was clear it was not his fault. The lorry had been overloaded and the brakes had failed and there were plenty of witnesses on that Wednesday lunchtime to the tragedy of the accelerating lorry. The driver's attempts to swerve. The small car. The collision. The aftermath. The aftermath now of my two infant sons and me and Tony and Kanga, all the parents, friends and also Audrey, who Roo was going to get engaged to in the summer. All these lives changed with an incident that took moments to happen.

Two funerals had to be attended. Tony sang 'Ave Maria' at both. Both were crowded occasions. Aunts and uncles and cousins were at the funerals. Grandpa and Grandma, too. So many friends, as well, Kerslake, Cambridge, Ulvescott. Aunt Mary and Miss P brought the thoughts and wishes from Lady Bing and the Duchess. There was a certain finality in those occasions. It was as if pages in the Book of Life had been turned. Those left had to carry on.

I was almost overwhelmed with the thoughts and kindnesses and letters and condolences of so many. I had a tear-stained letter from Tom. He was in Germany and couldn't get home. His thoughts were with us all. There was a telegram from Matt. He would come and see me as soon as possible. Letters came from the O'Briens. Mother, father and Anne. Maureen sent me a pencil sketch of a scene in London. It was perfect. A letter came from Rome. Mike was so understanding in what he wrote. He was now a deacon and studying hard. Letters from America, Switzerland, from aunts and uncles and families, and Germany, too. Hans' letter was so heartfelt. He was now engaged to be married and was so desolate over my loss. His happiness, I hoped, would be assured. He was full of praise for my Aunt who had kept in touch with the family over his brother Friedrich and had visited them. Friedrich was now fully recovered and they were all looking forward to the time when I could visit, too. Hans must have contacted Herr Vogel as there was a letter from him also. Someone else to visit. I was supported and uplifted by all this love.

Two letters came a little later. Another from America, the second from a country in the Middle East. Sayed's letter was full of sadness for me. He said he been overwhelmed by the kindness of my family, he wanted me to know how much he valued my friendship, that of my parents and, especially of Andrew and Lachlan and their family. There was joy in the letter from him, too He said he been blessed with a happy marriage himself now and doubly blessed by the birth of his own first son. He would be honoured if at some future date his son and my sons could also be friends.

The other letter, the one from America, was from young Georgie, now in his first year at Harvard. I knew of his great scholastic triumphs at the school in Ipswich from his bosom friend, Flea. Georgie had been awarded a scholarship to Harvard before even taking his Higher School Certificate examinations. He was studying Philosophy in the most prestigious department imaginable. I knew he had been accepted at both Oxford and Cambridge as well but, Georgie being Georgie, had decided to go to America. I wondered how the Americans were coping with that wry young man. There was a heartfelt straightforwardness in his condolences - he knew what I was feeling, his beloved grandmother, Farmer Catchpole's wife, had died a few weeks previously. I wrote to them both and felt that somehow shared our mourning.

A big family event was Gareth and Jennifer's wedding in Cardiff on Easter Saturday. I cried off at the last moment. They understood. I wanted to be there but I was too far gone in my own grief. But, I had to do some very serious thinking about me and my future. A letter had arrived two days after we arrived home. It was from Dr Blake. That final paper had clinched it. My First was now starred. Tony had good news too, he also was awarded a First. Small consolations for the loss of loved ones but Dr Blake's letter urged me to carry on with my academic work. The Junior Research Fellowship and the exchange arrangements were all in place. It was up to me and if he could be of any assistance just let him know.

I didn't have to discuss things with Mr and Mrs Marcham. They had Tony as their advocate. There were to be no arguments as far as I was concerned. The boys would be looked after. The nursemaid was fully trained and James was weaned and Francis was as bright as a button. He was rather disoriented with all the comings and goings but the loss of his mother was something to talk to him about when he was older. There was a home for me in the Marcham household whenever I wanted it. I was to go to France. It would be for about ten weeks at a time for two years. What was two years? Time then to take stock.

I returned to Cambridge a fortnight after term had started. I saw the Dean and Chaplain immediately and thanked them for what they had done and said how sorry I was that they had to break such bad news. I was told that I was to go to either one at any time if I needed. Friends and acquaintances there rallied round. Hearty rugger-buggers and boaties, eggheads and swots, ordinary lads and a few lasses all helped in their general comradeship. Willy saw to it I was not disturbed. Jem and Sam kept a weather eye on me. They were both leaving on the fifteenth of June for their basic training. We consoled them by saying they would be back in eighteen month's time. Peter Beckett and Mark Collins, now worldly-wise undergraduates, were a great support. They brought news and views and regaled Tony and me with all their doings. They were so enthusiastic about everything and were doing well.

Bruce kept me amused with his running commentary on his new-found sexuality. His sturdy dick was now a thick five and half inches when erect, proudly displayed on the second day I was back, and his voice had dropped with his balls. He'd been banned from playing rugger for the last three matches of the previous term as he'd lost his temper and walloped an opposing forward who had raked his boot over another's player's face. The gentle giant was now full of teenage rages and we all felt we had to keep a slight distance. I thought back to my own sixteen-year-old self and the feelings I had then. Here was he, twenty-one and going through the same phase. Professor Tillotson had told him the rages would subside as the hormone he was being given sparked off an outpouring of other chemicals and his body had to get used to it all. This was a side-effect he had been warned about. One more term of injections and that would be that, he hoped.

I and one of the others, one of the boaties, I think, decided we had to investigate. Also, I needed a piss myself. Sure enough, a recumbent figure was lying, head in the ground level trough. He was just coming-to and shook his head groggily. We took an arm each and dragged him so he was sitting upright on the wet floor. It was the ginger-haired crab-merchant. I realised: 'Bluey', Aussie for 'Ginger'!

I am afraid the boatie gave him a none-too-gentle toecap in the goolies. The youth clutched himself and gave vent to a stream of oaths. I didn't realise that our parents were unmarried and that our main interests in life included intercourse with young men, pleasuring young ladies with our tongues in parts of their anatomy usually discreetly veiled and practising the sin of Onan most regularly. As the boatie was also included in this catalogue as a co-partner who was also intimately acquainted with my penis inserted into his rectum on a frequent basis, which unfortunately was not true as he was a comely lad, he sharply reprimanded 'Bluey' again with a second application of the end of his foot.. I caught hold of the abundant ginger locks on his head and lifted him to his feet. He was at least six inches shorter than me and quite a weedy specimen. I let go. He was holding his aching bollocks with one hand and put the other on top of his head and rubbed that.

Actually, I felt rather sorry for him. He was only doing what he knew best. What a life! Waiting for his - what would you call them? - clients, in the evil stink, and wanking or sucking them off for a bob or two. Or, in Jeb Townsend's case, finding a quiet corner to fuck or be fucked. The boatie must have had the same thoughts. He shoved a hand in his pocket and drew out a ten-bob note.

We sauntered back into the bar. Bruce was consoling himself with another pint of best bitter and no one else seemed at all concerned. Next morning I got the whole story. Bruce had relieved himself and, now so pleased with the growth of his dong, had been holding it and peering at it in the dim light of the urinal, while chuntering on happily and rather drunkenly about his now most prized possession. Ginger-nuts had been lurking in a cubicle and took the delayed departure of a rather happy sounding giant as a signal that some sort of service was needed. He'd sidled out and taken up his station beside him, had glanced down and seen the smallness of the unerect organ and had made his unwise comparison and then received the full force of Bruce's hurt feelings. I had to try very hard not to laugh!

Dr Blake was full of praise as well as condolence. Praise over the exam result, praise over the care we'd all taken of Bruce, praise over the decision to go to Paris.... Plans, plans, plans. I had to decide on the major thrust of my research. I also had to find somewhere to live. The second was easier than the first.

Matt came to see me in Cambridge and stayed overnight. He had a bright idea. In fact it was the perfect solution. His friend the French naval officer, Julien, lived when off duty with his parents on the outskirts of Paris. Monsieur LaRiviere was a very high-level 'fonctionnaire', a Civil Servant in one of the many French ministries in Paris. There was Julien, three sisters and a much younger brother, Daniel. The last daughter had just got married so the parents were in a large house in the suburb of Ivry just with Daniel, who was still at school at a lycee in Paris. They also had a flat on the South Bank where Matt often stayed with Julien who used it as a base. If I was willing he would contact them. He liked the family and, although Monsieur might seem a little stuffy, he was quite all right once he had accepted you. It sounded ideal. He wrote a letter, there and then, I enclosed a curriculum vitae, plus a promise to help Daniel with his English studies.

That night I slept with Matt properly, not just sharing my narrow bed. For the first time since that fateful occasion with Kats I had sex with another person. Matt was gentleness itself. We loved each other as brothers and the best of friends. I fucked him slowly, passionately and a lot of my hurt evaporated. He loved me back giving me himself fully and completely. I felt as if I could love again. I knew I could love again. In those acts that night, dear, dear Matt helped me over an enormous hurdle in my speeded-up life. That one night was enough to convince me I could be a person again. He was happy, too. He had met a soul-mate he thought. Another naval officer. His name was James Morris and he came from Cardiff and, well, well, well, he knew my cousins. Oh, yes! I remembered that Alun had told me about a friend who was a naval cadet. It must be him. Small world!

Of course, they had to keep their relationship a secret. Any hint and they would be discharged, dishonourably. Matt spoke of Jamie Morris in such loving and glowing terms I hoped they would be happy when they could live together. Jamie was now a Lieutenant-Commander and in charge of general supplies at one of the naval bases. He lived off-base in a large bungalow and Matt and he saw each other as much as possible. Matt was taking a signals course next and was hoping to go to Paris himself within the next year or so. His friendship with Julien was also rather intense. However, Julien had his own great friend who was stationed in Saigon and he rarely saw him. Matt had spent some time at Easter in Paris with Julien attending the wedding of the sister and said they had to look after the young brother, sixteen coming up to seventeen, as mother and father then went to their country home further South to rest and recuperate. I think Daniel must have cramped their style a bit! Matt was also so pleased about something else. His father had been promoted again, to Rear-Admiral, and was now in charge of large sections of Naval training.

Charley came to Cambridge for a couple of days just before Jem and Sam were going on their call-up. He insisted we take them to the Blue Boar on his father's card. Of course, they knew old Bert. I think it turned out he was a relation of Sam's father's brother's wife or thereabouts. Needless we had royal treatment and the four of us, in dinner-jackets and black ties, borrowed for the boys, were real men about town. Charley still carried a stick, a silver-topped cane, but he walked normally now.

Much had to be done over the summer. I did another translation for Mr Blane and decided I would wait until I got to Paris to decide on the precise topic of my research. Tony, I and the nursemaid, a delightful lady in her late twenties, took the boys to London and spent three weeks there giving Ma and Pa much joy in seeing their grandsons. Many more books were bought to be devoured.

Things were happening to others as well. Billy Clarke planned to do an MA and had been promised a job with the BBC in the fledgling area of television. No one knew much about it. There had been broadcasts before the war and there had been a desultory start up again. John Parker had been appointed to the cello section of the orchestra at the Opera House. He was going to stay at the flat though until he found his feet. And, something of a surprise, Tim, with a newly minted BMus and further study to do, was wooing Maureen O'Brien who was now doing a sculpting course at the Royal College of Art. The most surprising bit of news, however, was that Vince Hare was going to be a missionary! Like his cousin, Mike, he was going to be a Catholic priest and was going to join the White Fathers college at Mill Hill in London now he'd got his degree. Wow!

So September came quickly. The LaRiviere's had sent an immediate reply. They would be delighted to have a friend of Matthew's as a guest in their house. They insisted I would be a guest. The only payment, to speak English to Daniel and to Madame. I said quietly tearful cheerios to my boys. Oh Francis, Oh, James, you don't know how much I love you and how much I will miss you.

On Tuesday the twelfth of September, Tony and I, set out for Paris. He was accompanying me, he said, to prevent me from falling into the sink of iniquity which everyone knew Paris was, full of beautiful women, alluring young men and seething with unmentionable depravity and vice which innocent youths such as I had fallen victim to over many years. I said his only reason for wanting to come with me was to stock up on stinking French cigarettes and he had another think coming if he fancied any alluring young man as no one would want to be associated with his ashtray breath! Actually, he was spending a week's holiday with me before returning for his BPhil year at Cambridge.

We couldn't have been given a greater welcome. Monsieur LaRiviere was short, with a waxed black moustache and very formal manners. He also had a twinkle in his eye and a cigarette on the go all the time. Madame LaRiviere was tall and stately. Very much like Ma. Must be something about French ladies. Daniel was just seventeen, the week before, tall like his mother, spotty, black-haired, also formal, but with an impish look when he relaxed. He made some remark, sotto voce, after looking me up and down and gauging my height, slimness and black hair, that I must be 'Le General'. He got a stern look from Papa as General de Gaulle was someone one did not mention lightly.

We had a large room - which was to be my combined bedroom and study - on the third floor, next to Daniel's equally large room. I had been told about the lack of plumbing in French households but was gratified to find a bathroom on the same floor - I had to share it with Daniel but had also been told that French boys washed even more rarely than English boys. I was much taken with the bed - which I shared with Tony during his stay - a vast mahogany-ended construction that, mercifully, was silent when Tony bounced on it as soon as he saw it. We did have sex together now each night as Tony said he was going to miss me terribly as well as Perce, Cas and Phil who were all off now to make their way in the world. What would he do?, was his plaint. I observed he'd find more boaties, rugger-fiends or members of the choir to seduce, no doubt. And there were always the Guardsmen - I remembered my effort all those years ago - 'A Guardsman's prick is awful hard, said Alice!' As we were in bed when I said this he nuzzled me, felt for my own standing at attention weapon, and murmured 'I'll always prefer yours'.

He referred to our bouts of love-making as 'seminal moments' and wondered if he should also send a few samples to the quack in Harley Street. Five pounds a time. He nudged me and asserted that I must have deprived him of several hundred pounds of needed income having sampled his output so many times. I said a dozen oysters would be cheaper, but, here I hesitated thinking of those many times I'd savoured my friend's copious outpourings, but a dozen oysters could never give me the pleasure I'd experienced with him.

We both then got a bit maudlin. He said he knew that would be the only way he'd have children and I was so lucky to have loved his sister. I said I had loved her with all my heart and mind and soul. It was only seeing my sons and having such good friends that kept me going. He cheered up a bit and said he was so lucky in that I loved him, too. I kissed his cheek and said that any child he fathered could only be as good and as nice and as loving as him. He complimented me and said he knew my sons would be just like me. Ten pounds worth of our maleness flowed freely and inseminated further our feelings of esteem, admiration and respect for each other as we lapped and gorged ourselves on those streams of warmth and potency. We slept content and further sadness slipped away.

Daniel was deputed to take Tony and me around Paris. He was a bit iffy at first about it, but as none of his Lycee friends lived in the district and we treated him to a reasonable lunch most days, he was mollified. In fact, he became quite garrulous after a day or so. That is, he spoke sentences, rather than grunted adolescent single syllabic replies. Pa's friend had come up trumps again with a new bundle of French francs so that accounted for a taste of French cuisine at midday, not that the meals at the LaRiviere's were anything but top quality. A formal dinner each evening unless Papa and Maman had to attend a governmental function which, I was told, was often once the holiday season was fully over. During the week Tony and I came in for two tickets for a concert in Notre Dame through Papa's influence.

Daniel explained the intricacies of the Metro system and we travelled widely on it. All three of us particularly liked Montmartre with the huge white church atop. But I also had things to arrange. One morning I was left while they went off to explore a flea market and I registered with the postgraduate research department and also signed up for the accelerated route to the L es L. Daniel was rather impressed by all this. He was due to take his baccalaureate next year and he wanted to attend the Sorbonne as his father was a graduate of that university and also of a Grande Ecole as well.

By the fourth day he was even speaking in paragraphs and he and Tony were always giggling about something or other, especially when Tony acted the fool as the quintessential Englishman abroad! Although Tony was very fluent he always insisted on speaking English in shops and restaurants until startling the assistant or waiter with a stream of eloquent French. In the evenings he closeted himself with Monsieur and spent hours talking with him, both wreathed in cigarette smoke, as Tony now smoked like a chimney. I talked to Madame and Daniel and also played to them on the boudoir grand in their very ornate French Empire drawing room. I was sorry to see him go and Daniel was a bit morose as well. Monsieur remarked on how intelligent my friend was and he hoped he would be able to visit again.

As Tony said goodbye on the station he gave me some photos taken at my wedding which seemed an age ago now. Of him and me and Matt. Of all my friends in their smart uniforms or morning dress grouped round me. Of me with Bran and Finbar. He said he'd also left a few packets of English ciggies to bribe the Frogs, he'd stocked up with more than his Customs allowance of foul French fags and was sure he could persuade some dear old lady or sweet young boy to carry a bag for him. Daniel actually said he wouldn't mind going back to England with him but he didn't know if he was a sweet young boy. Ow! Wow! Tony's charm! We laughed as we said cheerio to him as he insisted on the three kiss farewell and I saw his tongue dart against Daniel's lips on the third kiss. Tony, you are incorrigible!