Aladdin's Awakening by Joel

'Phone calls had to be made and arrangements to get up to Chester that day. I had two tutorials but Willy said that he would personally inform Mr Fletcher and Mr Jackson about my unavailability and he would explain the circumstances which were unforeseen as premature births usually were as was so with his son Jonathan who arrived four weeks early and to convey his and Maggy's utmost congratulations to that young rascal and he would contact Garthorpe Hall to tell the other rascal, his Lordship and Mr Arthur who would convey the news onward. His Lordship being the next Lord Harford, the ex-Colonel David Lascelles, as 'Bobsy' had died some years ago.

Safar came bursting in as the Porter at King's had informed him after our call and said he was coming too. Both Stephen and Jody were performing that evening so couldn't come but would see the infants as soon as possible. Francis was off-duty for once and he and Tony set off about the same time as us. We had been told no visitors before two o'clock and we made it in good time. James was pacing up and down outside the ward with Mr Hart. Mrs Hart and one of the other daughters were sitting in the waiting room. All in all a bit hectic!

After a wait Anne and I were let in to see the proud mother and the two scraps in incubators. Although both were five pounds five ounces when born they would be kept in for the first day. Pink-faced, rubbery looking, eyes closed, they reminded me so much of my first sightings of Francis and James. Diane looked tired but radiant. The births had been quite easy she said. The second one especially. As we sat and I held her hand great bunches of flowers arrived. From Stephen and Jody and Ma and Pa.

Next morning we were allowed to go to the hospital earlier and Anne and I were allowed to hold our grandsons, Jack Joseph Cally Thomson and Stephen Andrew Francis Thomson. Jack for Mr Hart, whose name was John but was always called Jack, Jack also for me, Joseph as that was Jody's real name and Cally for James's great friend. Of course, Stephen and Francis and Uncle Flea were there for the second of the twins. James smiled as he said Piers' would approve as there was also 'SAF' for Safar. He said his five brothers were there and Uncle Flea and the granddads, but he couldn't pack Uncle Lachs and all the others in as well but they would understand. He was sure they would be known as Jack and Saf! He was so euphoric. We all had to have our photos taken with the infants with Khaled and Safar holding their namesakes in several and James fussing around in case they were dropped. In the end we took him, the Harts and everyone else out for a meal that evening.

Arrangements for Christmas and the New Year had to be made. It was decided that the couple should spend their first Christmas with Diane's parents and that they should come to us for the New Year. This meant that the two sets of great-grandparents on our side would be present as well with Pa and Ma staying at the Gibsons and Helen and Gerald with Tony and Francis at their house. What a performance. One would have thought the amount of clobber for the twins was enough to fill a pantechnicon from the various parcels and packages carried up the stairs on the twenty-seventh when they arrived. Ma and Pa were waiting and were handed a small sleeping bundle each to hold while the car was unloaded.

That night James said as I was very adept at cleaning up infants, as well as grown sons, I could help him bath and change the twins and Francis could come and watch as he would have to take his turn in future. It took two to cope. It was odd. It was just like twenty-four years ago when Kats and I had bathed our pair, a year apart in age; it takes two to cope with two was our feeling then. As we undressed the infants, grown even in just eight weeks and smiling, or wind, as the various bits of clothing were removed. Both were smelly and I noted James was very skilful at holding Saf and talked to him incessantly. It was then I noticed something on Jack. I pointed. James stopped chattering and pointed too at the same place on Saf. The twins, identical, had the strawberry birthmark.

I nearly dropped Jack but we managed to put both down safely then the three of us turned and hugged each other. James was so happy. “That's why I wanted you both to help me with them. It's so wonderful,” he said as we clasped each other. “I've always wondered why I didn't have the mark and Francis did. But, it's come through me. I had it inside all the time.” One of the infants began to gurgle. We broke our hug and I peered more closely. Yes. The outline was so recognisable. I had it, Francis had it, dear Dodo and his son had it and our watcher and carer, Piers had had it. Here it was now on my twin grandsons. We washed and put clean nappies on and called the others up to see. Francis said we had to have a photograph of the four of us. On a rather chilly night, thank God for central heating, Francis and I put shorts on and with the babes on our knees James took photos. James said the sooner we could all visit Ulvescott the better. I said it would be opening up for the Americans after Easter so Easter would be fine.

After the excitements of the New Year the next two terms went without too many incidents. I heard that a series of papers I'd written were being made into a special section for one of the journals which I was very pleased about. Tony had finished the magnum opus of his growing-up story in the summer of last year. He had asked me, on the advice of Kanga, to go through the manuscript and see if I could identify any of the characters, even though names had been changed. Ouch! I found myself quite easily. There were several scenes which I remembered well - and fondly. He'd even got the altercation between me and Henry Gale and a pretty good description of the discovery of Henry tied up and him rather unhappy with his pals for doing the deed. From internal evidence I deduced who some of Tony's numerous conquests were and didn't realise he was actively fucking, or being fucked by, two of the prime hunks in the Sixth Form when he was in the Fourth. I worked out one must have been Cliff Bates and the other could only have been Alec Fry. From the evidence he had seduced both just to see what happened. If the rather lubricious couplings which he described really took place they were worthy of 'Audacity'. I had a guess about some of the Scouts. Quite a few must have been a year younger as there was a hilarious account of a circle jerk which started with four but ended up with ten as more and more curious youngsters entered the back room at the Scout hut where, instead of being instructed in First Aid, the lot ended up aiding themselves first. I recognised amongst them a description of Davy Abbott, the younger brother of my wank-buddy, Georgie. Tony would have to alter the site of a second encounter with that lad from the basement of a hardware shop to somewhere else.

All in all, I think I identified at least twenty protagonists and antagonists - I remembered Dick Penbury, in 5S at the time, fulminating about bum-bandits in the bogs of the local cinema and there he was, verbatim, before being led as a lamb to the slaughter and losing his virginity to Tony under the stage in the Hall at school. It seemed anyone who antagonised dear Tony ended up on their backs or their knees, not having been felled by a straight left, but feeling Tony's ever straight weapon employed to silence any detractors. I think it was Jimmy MacDonald who quipped that Tony had 'a long felt want'. From the account his wants were felt and more than satisfied.

We had numerous visitors and the proposed visit to Ulvescott was made. The American connection had been very good financially. In February and March we had been able to do many much needed repairs and renovations. There was a niggle though. I and Tony had been asked if we would be willing to assign the lease to the university as they wanted a permanent base which could take in more in England. Tony felt unsure. He said his income was sufficient to run the place as long as the Government didn't take too much in tax. So we were in a bit of a quandary. Chuck had written to say the Trustees had been gifted an enormous sum of money by an old alumnus benefactor who had made his money from pig farms in Oklahoma and they would have to have an answer within a year. At least we've got this year to sort it out was Tony's response and the pigs will carry on breeding.

Khaled and Safar shared Piers' room with Stephen and Jody in the Horsebox. The married couples, including Tony and Francis, had three of the refurbished rooms. Anne and I were in the African room - tastefully redecorated but with several of the original artefacts and other objects displayed on the walls. Jem and Sam had found a very nice couple, man and wife, as chef and housekeeper and they were already installed ready to cope with the usual sixteen to twenty American visitors with the help of a number of people from the now-expanded village.

The twins were duly introduced to Piers' room and James and Francis took them round explaining all about the photos as if the almost six-months-olds could understand. Both cooed as they went round the room. It was if they were absorbing that strange ambience so many of us had already experienced. At dinner that night both Safar and Khaled said how peaceful they found the room and they couldn't imagine anywhere nicer to live -except Cambridge, Safar said with his infectious grin. Safar had found the old copy of the Moszkovski's Spanish Dances in the piano stool, so, with him playing the upper part, we entertained everyone after dinner. The toad kept nudging me and whispering 'Faster' and he was sight-reading!

After Easter Safar had his finals. He did exceptionally well and was awarded a Chancellor's Prize and immediately asked if he could move back in as he wanted to continue to a PhD on Moorish influence on music of the Spanish court. I asked how was that going to pay the rent in future years? He just grinned and said probably in the same way as people who discovered dirty books and published them. “You'd be surprised what went on underneath a harpsichord!” he said and skipped out of the way of my usual weapon in the kitchen, a lethally flicked tea-towel. He was also busily constructing various instruments of that time based on documents and accounts he was reading. Ma was roped in as she was fluent in Spanish and Safar and she spent many, query, happy hours pouring over old documents.

Both Anne and I had conferences to attend in July so our holiday plans were fluid. I had suggested to Khaled and Safar we could go and stay with Johann in Switzerland at the beginning of August and we had a pleasant three weeks lazing and exploring. Stephen and Jody had decided they wanted sea, sand and sunshine so had gone off to the Greek Isles and came back the day after we returned from Switzerland looking tanned and bronzed and full of tales of how they had been pursued by predatory old men who ogled their golden bodies. When asked how old and how many, they said at least thirty! Both years and men. At the time we were sitting in the garden soaking up more sun and I pointed out I would soon be forty-five. Stephen sat up and said I couldn't be, I was just care-worn looking after all my lost sheep. As Jody was practically naked at the time and his body hair had regrown over the Summer I suggested he should be shorn as he had to be frequently. For someone with ginger - sorry, nice red - hair it did grow quickly and there were often giggles from their shared bedroom as Stephen wielded the hair remover or razor. Khaled said he wasn't surprised about the oglers, the pair had probably waggled their pert little bums at all and sundry. Stephen said they hadn't had to buy themselves a drink all the holiday and they were still as pure as the virgin snow. “Slush!” said Safar.

I knew he wasn't well but it wasn't until last Friday when Georgie `phoned me to say he only had a few days or even hours to live. I was able to be with him and held his hand when the end came in the early hours this morning. He was quite lucid in those last few moments and he had that grin on his face which we all knew so well. as he must have been reliving happier times. He said I was to give you his love.

The signature was slightly blurred, a tear must have dropped. More tears dropped as I remembered back thirty years to my first meeting with the irrepressible imp. I was still weeping softly when Anne came into the study to find why I hadn't appeared for the past hour. Time had passed. I silently pushed the letter on the desk over her. Her eyes were misted too when she handed it back.

I found I couldn't work that day. I needed to edit an article my publisher was crying out for. I went for a long walk, along the Backs, then all the way to Grantchester. I stopped at the Rupert Brooke and had a drink. I thought of him, another wasted life in the Great War that claimed Piers and Miles and then Andrew and Lachlan's father in the Second World War. I thought of Andrew and Lachlan, the airman and the soldier who survived their battles but then, - `those whom the gods love die young'. Dear, dear Flea - too young. I finished my drink quickly and almost stumbled back along that long path home. It was strange, I had so many dear friends and loved ones, but for that walk I felt alone, deprived of a portion of that love, but I knew that really it could never be extinguished.... I didn't believe but I said a prayer for the repose of that dear, dear soul.

I had a long talk with Lachlan on the `phone that evening. His grief was palpable. He said he was staying in Andrew's house in the village near Brighton to tidy up his affairs. He said there was no tidying to do. Andrew, knowing the end was near, had left everything, neat, complete. He said there was even a letter and a small package for me. The arrangements were for him to be cremated at Brighton on Tuesday September the Third at two thirty. I promised to be there.

I had 'phoned Tony immediately after I got home and he said he would tell Francis as soon as he came home from his duties at the hospital. Francis 'phoned back almost immediately and said he was determined to come with me and had persuaded Grunty to change days with him. James was not to be left out either. He said he would be there as well and could combine it with having a meeting in London with a client. Just as Edward was my favourite uncle so they coupled Andrew and Lachlan as a single entity, their joint favourite uncles. Stephen was heart-broken when I told him. I heard him weeping after I told him the news. Uncle Flea was his true uncle and had been unstinting in his love towards his adored and adoring nephew. Jody came to the 'phone and I could hear him weeping, too. Flea had teased him just as he teased my sons, he had been included in everything. When Khaled and Safar came in from work and the Library they said they would definitely be there, in fact, their father had just 'phoned me and sounded very heartbroken.

Anne, Khaled, Safar and I met Tony and Francis at Cambridge station and set out early on Tuesday morning to get to London and then to take the Brighton train. At Victoria there were James, Stephen and Jody waiting for us. They said they'd seen Pa and Ma catch an even earlier train. We had a quick lunch and so were early when the taxi we found drew up at the crematorium. Outside was Beth Catchpole. She was going to play the organ and said she didn't know if she felt calm and collected enough. Safar said he would go up to the organ loft with her to keep her company. The previous ceremony was finishing and as soon as we could we entered the building and when asked our names were ushered into the second row in the second seat onwards. The place filled rapidly but I noted that the front rows the other side were kept empty. Just before the appointed time two figures dressed in black came down the aisle. They were Sayed, closely followed by Ibrahim. Francis sitting next to me vacated his place and sat in the third row immediately behind us with Ibrahim as Sayed took his place. I glanced at my watch just as at the appointed time we all stood as Andrew's family, Aunt Della, Uncle Edward, Andrew's adored sister, Julia, with her husband, and Ma on Lachlan's arm, came down the aisle and filed into the front row. As he passed me Lachlan smiled wryly and handed me an envelope and a small carefully wrapped package. As we stood Sayed put his hand in mine and gripped it tight. We never let go the whole of the service.

Beth had chosen well. Bach, of course; the Fantasia and Fugue in C Minor, played softly. The inexorable tread of the Fantasia was most fitting. The coffin, draped in a Union Jack, on it a single posy of white flowers and two caps, RAF and Naval, appeared. It was borne on the shoulders of six husky lads in Sea Scout uniform. As they laid the seemingly diminutive box on the catafalque a stream of similarly attired lads filed in behind and took their places in the empty seats. When the bearers turned I couldn't help noticing the tears on the cheeks of each of them as they moved into their places in the front row. A tall, slim figure in the Naval uniform of an officer in the Sea Scouts slipped into the empty seat next to me. A gentle voice said `Hullo, bor'. It was Georgie. The unresolved chord with the hanging B natural at the end of the Fantasia arrived. The service began.

I had been to plenty of funeral services, burials and cremations over the years, Dr Blake, other old dons, me representing the college for past students there before my time, and so on. Many were dreary affairs. Not today. The clergyman who celebrated, yes, celebrated these funeral rites knew Andrew very well. It was his old friend Ludo Wilkinson. We heard stories about his life at school from his great friend Titty Temple-Tempest; his service in the Air Force - five feet five of human dynamite, a Squadron Leader in every way - from a Wing Commander he had taught to fly. Then of his more recent years after leaving the Air Force - one of his colleagues spoke of his dedication to his work, how he'd used his dynamism and good humour to rescue an ailing firm.

Finally, Georgie stepped forward and spoke of friendship and how he and Andrew had become firm friends not only from their joint interest in sailing but also from a meeting of minds and emotions from living in the Suffolk countryside so many years ago. He spoke clearly and from the heart.. This Professor of Philosophy had the words and nuances of expression to convey what I had felt in my heart for Andrew over all these years. It was not a sad occasion, we celebrated a life.

We sat and listened, each with their own thoughts and memories. The Bach Fugue, its theme so upbeat, though in a minor key, symbolised for me that life. A questing life, never really settled except when in the company of friends or doing the things he really liked doing. I listened to the sequences, one voice following another, ascending through unrelated keys but in the end culminating in the finality of the rising sequence of chords after that powerful pedal note in the bass. The curtains closed but Andrew was still with us - in our hearts and innermost being. Oh, Flea. I wept.

As we waited to file out Sayed let go long enough for me to open the little box. In it was the Lieutenant's pip I had given to him so many years ago. The only thing I had which I could give him at the time as a remembrance. In the envelope was a short note reminding me of that occasion and that he had carried that pip in his uniform pocket all the time he was in the Air Force, in his training, on those hazardous sorties in 1956, when he trained others..... At all times. It was his talisman. Lachlan stopped before passing me, smiled and opened his hand. He was holding the other pip. I opened my other hand. The old clay pipe.

As we filed out I recognised more Bach, that most beautiful and most appropriate chorale prelude 'Schmucke dich, O liebe Seele', 'Bedeck thyself, O loving Soul'. At the chapel entrance we were joined by Beth and I realised Safar was giving his own farewell to a very favourite uncle. We stood and listened as the rest of the large congregation filed out, Sayed still firmly holding onto me. He was so clearly moved by both the solemnity and the joy and now by his son's superb playing. Finally, as the last chord died away, Ibrahim and Francis came up and he was led to the large limousine with its dark-visaged driver and equally dark bodyguard.

In the courtyard I found Georgie talking to a group of his solemn-looking lads. They said cheerio to him and walked off slowly. Two of the tall, husky bearers remained. I hadn't seen them for a couple of years. They were Georgie's twin sons, Andrew and Philip, now seventeen. They were devastated with their loss. Flea had also been their favourite adopted uncle, too. Andrew said very quietly that he was going to carry on his namesake's work.. Philip nodded and said, “Me, too!”

There was a fleet of cars and taxis to take us to one of the hotels in Brighton where about a hundred people gathered who had filled the pews at the ceremony. There were old RAF comrades, colleagues from work, many others, and a quartet of imposing men. Lachlan greeted them warmly and I and Anne shook hands with them. Two were in military uniform, a Brigadier and a Major-General, Cartwright and Bradley. The others were in civilian clothes, but had that discernible bearing of military experience. His Excellency Douglas Potterton, Ambassador to a Middle Eastern State, well-known to Sayed, and Charles Sibley (no Hector Augustus) the rotund, prosperous looking chairman of a major company, were there. I had met them all before on a number of occasions but those memories of thirty years ago when I visited the school flooded back. They had known of me; the irresistible, irrepressible imp had made his friendships known and they had been curious to meet me at the time. We had become friends as well I found that Potty's second son, Freddy, was coming up for the new term to read Maths at Corpus Christi. I gave his father my card with a welcome note scribbled on the back.

Uncle Edward looked bowed with the loss. His adopted, so-loved, son - he shook his head sadly. Aunt Della, in unaccustomed black, held tight to her husband's arm until he wandered off with Julia, her husband and Stephen and we sat together and reminisced. I had become a third son for her over the years so there was a quiet intimacy there which we shared. She reminded me of the nights of the doodle-bugs and seeing Andrew in the sheet and Lachs encased in my inverted pullover which lightened that very frightening episode a lot. Just then I was startled to see a tall figure approaching, I had wondered where he'd got to as I hadn't seen him when we got into our taxi and he certainly hadn't been in the front row in the chapel. It was Pa, with Francis and James on either side. He and his brother embraced and then I got up and gave him my seat.

“Sat at the back and got chatting to someone I knew from the Ministry years ago, we were going to get a cab here because you'd all gone. Look who rescued me, gave me and Jody a lift in that big black car! Had to wait for Safar to finish and come down.” It was Sayed. I'd wondered where he'd got to as well, but that explained it. We hugged each other. He said he couldn't speak in the chapel or he would have broken down. And that wouldn't have done for his escort to see that. He didn't mean Ibrahim, but his pair of toughies. Francis gathered Ibrahim up and took him off to introduce him to Georgie and his boys and then they found Miles Bastable and Titty looking forlorn and lost and were soon in animated conversation about something or other. Tony I noted was talking quietly and confidently to a rather distinguished man I hadn't seen before.

I said to Pa I wondered where he'd got to and he should have been in the front row. He just smiled and said Flea could see him quite clearly from where he sat. Georgie came across with Beth and his sons and greeted Pa as well and asked if he was still coming sailing at the end of September. And then, no doubt for the benefit of the two boys, Pa reminded him once again about the incident with the punt on the Cam. Pa grinned and said he knew he was a better philosopher than a punter and congratulated him on his recently conferred Chair at the local University.

Gradually the gathering broke up. I was rather surprised at the number of people Pa knew. Both Brigadier Cartwright and Major-General Bradley greeted him warmly. I knew that Cartwright had been in Intelligence with Lachs as I had been involved too, but Pa was always tight-lipped about some of his scientific or other involvement in such things. He had words to say with quite a few anonymous looking gentlemen who from their appearance were, or had been, military in some way. Tony's friend had been an undergraduate at King's with him and was now a Principal Private Secretary in the Civil Service and they had been reminiscing about being in the same rugger team. Tony shook his head when I looked at him. Not one of his conquests!

I said cheerio to Georgie, flanked by his sons. I by mine. Stephen was quite distraught, his Uncle had meant so much to him. His brother, James, and almost brother Jody, put consoling arms round him. Safar and Khaled had said goodbye to their father and Francis had been there as well, arranging another visit for Ibrahim, no doubt, and the three of them came to join us. Georgie's sons were having interviews at Cambridge soon so were told to come and stay with us. Lachlan was remaining for a few days to wind up Andrew's affairs and then would be coming to Cambridge for a long rest. So, quite a few of us gathered to catch the London train. As I got off the connection in Cambridge, with Anne, Francis and Tony, Khaled, Safar and Ludo, I felt a whole chapter in my life had just closed. But - quis desiderio sit pudor aut modus tam cari capitis? What shame or stint should there be in mourning for one so dear?

But then in March we had a real scare. In the week before Easter, King Khalid of Saudi Arabia was assassinated. I think even before the official announcement Lachs was on the 'phone with instructions that Khaled and Safar were to be confined to the house, the ubiquitous telephone engineers would be in the road, and please would we accommodate Sergeant McIver for a day or two until things quietened down. Within hours the Post Office engineers' tent was on the pathway and a tough looking young man, in sweater and joggers with an overlarge sports bag turned up looking like a boatie friend of Francis and Grunty.

Safar and Khaled were primed this time - it was a neighbouring state and anything might happen. I think it was only then they realised to what extent how circumspect and restrictive in a way their lives had been. I had explained to Khaled all those years ago when he wanted to go to London to study that his safety there could not be guaranteed and he understood. I sat with them in my study now and told them as much as I could - Lachs had said I should give them the full story of their kidnap and the fate of their captors and of the machinations of the ruling people of the state. It was then that Lachs let slip that the two women had been given to the local barracks for the use of the soldiers and both had killed themselves within a couple of weeks having been raped almost continuously. That would not be told, nor the details that Flea had given me about the mutilation of the men. All I said was that the perpetrators had been punished. Khaled, at least, knew what I meant.

Sergeant McIver, Johnny, was a character. From the west coast of Scotland he had that soft burr of an accent. We found he was told to join up at sixteen, or face youth custody after joy-riding, and he'd made the Army his career and the Marines his home. He was now twenty-seven, just a few months older than Francis. He and the lads got on so well he was invited to come and stay whenever he had leave. Francis after only five minutes with him told me he would keep him occupied whenever necessary. He winked, “Definitely!” he said. So Francis gained another companion to set beside Ibrahim, who was overwhelmed with all the activity at the Embassy, and on a couple of evenings when the engineers gave the all clear took Johnny off for a drink at the local pub..... I hoped Tony was in agreement. Mr McIntyre did comment about the continual need for the Post Office to deal with a deteriorating telephone service and he couldn't see it getting any better if we joined the Europeans and anyway there was a woman now in charge of the Conservative party..... I nodded and agreed. I'd always found that best, especially when he started to advise me on the state of my garden.

I did ask Francis if Johnny had consulted him yet, as the resident doctor, on the best cure for haemorrhoids. I got an old-fashioned look, then a wicked grin and “There's always hope!”. That was engendered by a joke James had come out with, when barely a teenager, about a man who went to the doctor with piles and had been given some cream and told to apply it. The man said he didn't know how too so the doctor told him to drop his trousers and pants and bend over and then he put both hands on the man's shoulders and the man said, 'Gosh, that's soothing'.... James said all the boys, older than him it transpired, had all laughed then, and was that the whole joke? Francis had gone bright red at the time and told James to 'Shut it'. James, for once, had taken the hint and did. Later that evening there were screams of laughter from upstairs and the mention of haemorrhoids in the household always set James off in fits of giggles.

I think the ticket office at the Opera House must have been overwhelmed by the number of seats we booked on one application. The Grand Tier had the whole Thomson tribe, friends, relations and hangers-on for that marvellous May evening. From the first chords of the Prokofiev score conducted by Tim Parker we knew we were in for a great treat. Jody as Tybalt almost brought the house down with his swaggering dances in the First Act as he quarrelled with Romeo and his friends. Stephen as Romeo looked the complete young Veronese gentleman in his well-tailored costume and short cloak with his sword by his side. Even in the later scenes when he tried to get into the Capulets' house he showed by his actions that he was a cut above even his suave companions, Mercutio and Benvolio.

Lisa looked so young as Juliet, she could have been the twelve-year-old of the story. In that first meeting with Romeo there was such an air of electric attraction in the way they approached each other. Lisa so shy, coy but knowing, and Stephen, merely by gesture and simple steps, conveying his awe and his sudden enchantment, as a fully sexually aware lad of fourteen, by that beautiful young girl as Mercutio tried hard to distract him. Jody again as Tybalt showed an imperious streak as he ordered him to leave the house.

In the Second Act after the marriage ceremony came the fights with spirited swordplay. Mercutio was killed by Tybalt and then Romeo takes on Tybalt and runs him through. As the sword fight concluded so Tim produced those fifteen thunderous chords from the orchestra, each sounding more and more menacing and final, and Tybalt died. As Stephen had said all those years ago about his own performance as a mouse, 'he died convincingly'.

We saw the stature of the pair of young dancers develop as the story unfolded so that they appeared mature beyond their years within the intricate ramifications of the story, especially for Juliet, as she succumbed to her father's wishes to marry Paris. Paris was a very comely young man, whose shapely thighs matched Jody's and whose bulge seemed even more prominent and had Francis peering through his opera glasses each time he appeared with a nudge from Ibrahim who wanted to borrow them. His dancing had a real air of authority. I noted in the programme his name was Peter DeLisle. Someone else to watch out for in the future.

Not only the Grand Tier went wild as the last notes faded away but there was such prolonged applause the curtain calls were still going on as we all filed out to make our way backstage. The attendants had been primed, as usual, that 'family were in'. What a family! At last there was a final curtain call. Tim Parker turned and rushed to me and gave me the greatest hug, nearly stabbing me, a la Tybalt, with his conductor's baton. “That lad. He'll go far. In fact the three of them will!”

The three were hugged, congratulated, complimented, praised. It took James to bring a little sanity and a huge burst of laughter into the proceedings as he looked at his brother in his gold and white costume with short jacket and white tights with the usual male dancer's conspicuous bulge. “You're much too well-hung for a fourteen-year-old,” he said, looking at him below the midriff. He shook his head. “You'd better get Francis to see to that before the next performance and then you can wear this again.” He held up the dance-belt which must have belonged to a ten-year-old, purloined or 'borrowed' by Stephen, and given to James that Christmas all those years ago.

“'The tumult and the shouting dies; the Captains and the Kings depart'” quoted Anne as we arrived back in Cambridge after the wedding. It had to take place in London at the Kensington and Chelsea Register Office as it seemed as if half of theatrical, or balletic, London wanted to attend. There was a huge reception with streams of guests bearing gifts, congratulations and best wishes for the future.

He sat and held my hand as he said they'd already announced they were getting married before then to some of their friends in the Company - we'd heard the day after the performance. That night, the four of them, he, Lisa, Jody and Peter had gone to stay at the Kensington flat with Ma and Pa. He and Lisa had gone to bed together for the first time and that was when it happened. The same night Jody and Peter decided that their friendship had developed into love and they had slept together, quite chastely, according to Jody's account to Stephen. In one night four lives had been settled and another had begun. Lisa's Mum had guessed as she had been sick on a visit home and they were telling Anne at the moment.

There were tears all round - of joy and happiness, with Khaled and Safar, very meaningfully saying they would miss sharing with Jody; Safar saying mainly because he was such a fidget in bed, always tossing and turning. There was a certain emphasis on the word 'tossing' and it was Jody's turn to redden, but only slightly, as the look of happiness on Peter's face was such we knew that Jody was well-known for his fidgeting.

The door to the big guest room was open and we entered quite silently. It had been a warm night and the two sleeping figures showed this. Both were nude and didn't even have a sheet over them. They lay, facing each other, foreheads touching, Jody's damp red locks were almost tangled with Peter's equally damp, but lustrous, brown hair which fell forward over his face. Jody had a protective arm under Peter's neck and over his back. They slept so soundly, their beautifully sculpted, well-defined torsos moving in synchrony with their slow steady breathing. There wasn't an ounce of fat on them and their muscular stomachs rose and fell also in time with their breathing. It was noticeable that both had shaved away most of their pubic hair which made their drooping uncircumcised penises look quite massive on their slim bodies. Their foreskins were slightly retracted and the dark pink of their ends contrasted with the very white skin of Jody and the darker, almost brown hue of Peter's lengthy young cock. They lay so peacefully like two young Greek gods, or a veritable Castor and Pollux.

There was ample evidence why they were sleeping so heavily and so late. That night they had fully consummated their love for each other in all ways we could but assume. There were traces of that love nestling amongst the hairs left on their bellies and there was copious further evidence on the towels which were tucked under them. I reached out and took Safar's hand. We looked at each other and smiled. I leaned over the couple and tenderly kissed each, very gently, on the forehead. Then Safar did the same. Both smiled in their sleep. We turned to leave them to rest knowing that love, trust, affection and attachment had been attained fully that night. As we stood there we didn't realise that Khaled had been watching us. He went to the other side of the bed and planted his kisses of welcome and brotherhood as well.

It must have been near enough one o'clock when I was in the kitchen with Khaled and Safar, with Khaled cutting sandwiches for lunch and Safar making a big jug of Pimm's and sneering at me, baiting me to say something about alcohol, when the two 'star-crossed lovers' appeared, shirtless, in pairs of running shorts purloined from Francis's collection. They both looked so happy and kept looking at each other. Jody couldn't contain himself. He flung an arm round Peter's shoulder. He spoke to me but the others were included.

However, he wasn't too happy with some of the Governmental policies and when inflation hit 26.9% in the second week of August he spent many extra hours in the office. Whether he was also being more watchful after the earlier scare he did say he'd noticed a young chap, who was obviously a down-and-out, sitting on the pavement in our road several days running. Just in case, I 'phoned Lachs and he said he was nothing to do with him. If we saw a strange window-cleaner's van the next couple of days they would be keeping the vagrant under observation.

It all came to a head a couple of days later. A neighbour up the road had a most aggressive terrier bitch who had gone for the flapping, torn trouser leg of the lad as he stood at the corner and had ended up biting him. The neighbour was distraught and, knowing that Francis was a doctor, who, of course, was making one of his frequent calls at home for extra food, rushed along worrying that someone would call the police and have her dear little dog put down. As she quietened the dog and dragged it off, just before it would have got a well-deserved kick up the rear from me, Francis went up to the lad who was sitting holding his ankle and sobbing quietly. I went along, too, just as Francis was questioning him and trying to get him to take his very dirty, unwashed hand away from the wound. Gosh, the poor lad stank and his body was so thin I just wondered what was holding him together. I also thought he was familiar in some way and then noticed as he took his hand away from his ankle that he had a very small tattoo of a butterfly on the skin between his thumb and first finger of his right hand. I knew who it was.

Tristan, an only child, had been very shy and retiring. I worked out he must be near enough eighteen now. He'd gone to a very good independent school in Hampstead, was doted on by Kanga and Audrey, and had taken his GCSEs more than a year earlier than usual. He'd started in the Sixth Form when he was barely fifteen and somehow had been enticed into trying drugs. It had started with cannabis and he's been suspended from school. Two so-called friends of his had been found with cocaine and were prosecuted and it was thought he had got involved as well. When he was sixteen he had disappeared. Runaway kids are so common in London the police said that they could do little. Even Lachs said it would be difficult to find him if he was determined to hide.

He had visited us once when he was about ten and our lot were all in their teens, boisterous and rowdy I suppose to a boy living with quiet parents in a large mansion flat in Torrington Place near University College and attending, at the time, a small private school off Goodge Street somewhere. I remember he watched the antics with a quiet reserve. There was no harm in our lot they were just full of teenage hormones and energy. As Lachs put it after one visit - rowing, rugger, masturbation and arguing, just like school in his day. But Tristan had returned. Was this some way of trying to make contact?

Francis said he would ring the hospital and have him admitted. He was really very weak and as far as Francis could make out had existed for the past week on some scraps of food he'd found in a bin at the back of the pub at the end of the road and some sandwiches a kind neighbour had given him. Francis wanted to examine him properly but he needed to be cleaned up first. I offered to drive him to the hospital and at last we coaxed him into the back of the car with Francis and Mrs McIntyre almost holding him down. He was agitated which Francis said could be a sign he was coming down from being on drugs. He'd need tests to see what.

That evening Safar and I went to see him. He was in bed in a separate room with a drip and was sleeping. Francis came along in his white coat and said they'd found he'd had some heroin about a week ago but he wasn't used to it so there must have been an adverse reaction. He'd asked a nurse where he was and was rather puzzled when she said Cambridge. As we sat by his bed Kanga came in looking so sad and so relieved. He took one look. “It's Tristan,” he said and burst into tears. I lead him out and we sat in the waiting room while Safar sat by Tristan's bedside and talked softly to him and held his hand.

Kanga stayed the night with us and we went early in the morning to see Tristan again. He was more awake now but was still dehydrated and lacked any energy. I left father and son together. Kanga said Audrey was beside herself. She had almost given up any hope of seeing her son again. There were so many stories of addicts being found dead she had lived in fear that her son might be a statistic one day.

We promised Kanga that we, and Francis, especially, would look after him. That evening Francis told us that as far as they could make out Tristan hadn't become an addict. He had the remnants of a few punctures in his arms but not sufficient to cause concern. His main problem was that he was starved. Francis then said it was obvious he had earned money to live in the only way possible for a runaway teen. He was starving because it was clear he would need some reconstructive surgery to his anus and rectum and couldn't have stood another insertion without great pain and he probably wasn't getting enough giving blow-jobs especially in the dreadful state he was in. As Francis delicately put it, “Who would want their cock sucked by a derelict?”

Tristan was in Addenbrooke's for a week and then he came and stayed with us. Kanga and Audrey came too for the weekend but Francis's advice was to let him get used to us first. He was very listless and tired to begin with but gradually with good food and the quieter company he revived. It was Safar in his quiet way who got his story from him. In the evenings they sat and talked or just sat together. To begin with we put him in the small spare room but after a couple of days he moved into Safar's room and shared his bed. Safar said nothing was happening between them, it was just for company as Tristan couldn't really sleep alone as he woke up distressed. In any case, as well as the other surgery needed, his penis and foreskin had been mangled in some way and Francis said he would require to be circumcised as well.

He said he still didn't know how he got to Cambridge. He thought he must have hitched a lift and some long-stored memory had led him from the city centre out to us. He had been living rough for some months after a man who had taken him in had chucked him out when he wouldn't take part in any more orgies where the man's friends dressed up in outlandish costumes. He said to Safar it all came to a head when he'd been fucked by the man and six of his friends one night and he'd been forced to give them all blow-jobs first. In the end they'd tied him to a bed and fucked him so many times he'd passed out. That was when the damage was done. We took him back to Addenbrooke's and he had both sets of procedures done in sequence. Under his shyness he had a good sense of humour and said he felt wrapped up for Christmas and stuffed like a turkey. A bandage round his dick and a mass of gauze up inside him as well.

We brought him home and he stayed for Christmas and the New Year. Jem and Sam then took him over and with Lucius keeping an eye on him he was installed in a room in the house in De Freville Avenue and was enrolled in the Hills Road College to take his A levels. The students in the house adopted him as a mascot and though they were predominantly gay Tristan wasn't. He was an example to them where things could go wrong. He blossomed as he relaxed and found he didn't have to compete and Lucius even taught him to play the flute, so another lost soul became attached to our menagerie!

On February the Fourteenth, St Valentine's Day, Andrew Francis James Cameron Thomson was born in the early evening. Lisa was booked into Addenbrooke's Rosie Maternity Wing so we all trooped in the next afternoon. Stephen was breathless with pride. Jody and Peter were there as well and had brought all the flowers the cast had received the previous night as well as two packs of multi-coloured condoms with the best wishes of the boys in the company. While we were there a telephone call came from James and Diane in Chester. James, of course, wanted to know why the poor child was saddled with four names when he'd been content with three each for his own pair. After that remark was relayed to us Stephen put on his own imperious voice and said that he should know that his own Uncle had taken Stephen's father as his own son and had bestowed the honourable name of Thomson on him. He was proud to bear the name Cameron Thomson and if his son was a bit top-heavy in names he could always remove the James. For once, I think James was silenced. Then Stephen said, with his giggle, “Only joking, bro, he's got to have the lot!”

Several things happened in a hurry over the next few months. Firstly, Uncle Lester March died of some unspecified ailment with 'pneumonia' on the death certificate and Tony had to fly out suddenly to arrange the funeral and deal with the lawyers. Then, because of the national financial crisis with interest rates and so on, the hotel chain that leased Ashburn House asked for the lease to be rescinded on payment of a goodly sum. This was a godsend as Messrs Grabbit and Runne, as we called our solicitors in Kerslake, were able to offer Ashburn House on a substantial lease to the Trustees of the American university. The Duchess was agreeable and at over eighty now said the lease would revert to a musical charity when she died.

Chuck flew over immediately to finalise the deal bringing Brad the Third, still sixteen stone, muscular and as gay as possible and deposited him in Francis's grateful lap for an extended stay. At least, James said, when he came down at Easter and slapped Brad on the back in greeting and held his hand in mock pain, he hoped Brad was kind to his elderly brother and said Francis had never really got the hang of that double leg twist and full submission or whatever Brad called it and was itching to practice it all again. As Johnny McIver was also on leave I dreaded to think what a combined thirty stone might do to my lanky son Francis's body if they tried a few joint wrestling moves on him. Something worse than carpet burns? Francis seemed to thrive on it, though. Brad stayed on and moved into the house with him and Tony. He signed up for unspecified courses but seemed to spend a lot of his time working-out with the boaties and keeping a certain smile on Francis's face.

Thirdly, on a weekend visit where even he looked pale and wan, Sayed said he was giving up the Ambassadorship. He was thoroughly fed up with all the jockeying for position amongst his quarrelsome relations so he would look for a nice quiet country estate in England and live the life of an English gentleman and they could stick..... I laughed and said he was already more English than the English and the grand idea struck me. Ulvescott Manor! He knew some of the story so when I just said the two words, Ulvescott Manor, he smiled and said “Perfect”.

My telephone bill was going to be astronomical as I had to 'phone Tony almost daily with news and get instructions and agreements. He said Uncle Lester had made a very comprehensive Will and, as long as their own versions of Sue, Grabbit and Runne in the States didn't start quibbling, about thirty of Uncle Lester's retired little helpers would each get a hundred thousand dollars each, another twenty, fifty thousand each, and the final four, Beef, Tex, Neils the Swede and Nick were in the running for five hundred thousand each. Not only that, Paul and Alistair had impressed the old boy so much with their industry and hard work they were getting fifty thousand each. I whistled, and being a mathematician manque, did a quick calculation. “That's over six million dollars!” I said.

“And there's the rest!” said Tony with a laugh. “Uncle Lester knew that money grows money and he made some very wise investments. Those pool parties paid off. He got plenty of hot tips - and I don't mean what you're thinking!” He had a fit of the giggles and spoke to someone in the background. “I'll have to ring back. There's someone from some American Museum of Art waving a huge cheque so I'm told.”

When he rang back I found the museum was interested only in Uncle Lester's own sketches and drawings for the films and stage shows. There were literally hundreds, probably thousands of these that the boys had sorted into portfolios and they could be used as a tax deductible asset if donated to the museum. They were valued at some astronomical sum and I was totally bemused by all the noughts the Americans seemed always to be speaking about. Of course, they called noughts zeroes, but it all came to the same thing!

Tony flew back home and when he came to report on progress he handed me a piece of paper. He said he'd brought it over tucked in a copy of the Los Angeles News or something. He winked and said it was mine for all I'd done for the family. He didn't like it. It was the Picasso drawing. He had decided it was probably a bull in full pursuit of some luckless matador. The most discernible bit of the sketch might be the gigantic bollocks swinging back. At least that was also the considered opinion of Francis and Khaled when they looked at the scribble and had a learned discussion about it.

Francis said it was like a Rorschach Inkblot Test where you had to say what you saw. Safar said it was more likely to be a back view of Grunty, rushing down the pitch and scoring a try having had his shorts split, like in that game against some Bedford school. It was pointed out that Grunty and Picasso had never met and why did he think it was him anyway. Safar said his were just like melons, then blushed and said he'd just done a James. Jody and Peter were giggling over it and Jody said the lot of them were just like the bloke who went to a psychologist for tests to see if he was suitable for a job. He was shown a triangle and asked to say what he thought it was. He said it was a rude picture. The psychologist then showed him a circle and he said that was pornographic. On the third attempt he said a square reminded him of a centrefold in Playboy magazine. The psychologist said he'd never met anyone so obsessed by sex. The chap said “What about you mate, you're the one showing me all the dirty pictures!”.

All in all, as Tony was the main residual beneficiary it turned out he inherited a very large sum of money. Before the British tax man could get his fingers on it he bought a villa in the South of France and announced he would spend six months of the year there and Francis was going to do a course in France so he could practise as a doctor there as well. Uncle Lester had also included all my six in the Will so with luck and the help of a good tax consultant they wouldn't be too hard up.

Tony said that the four lads were devastated about Uncle Lester's death but what was very worrying was that two seemed to have caught some bug. He said Tex and Beef were both losing weight and were getting listless and lethargic. Some of their friends were complaining too of similar symptoms. He'd instructed the attorneys to sell off the houses in Beverly Hills and Los Angeles and the four lads, with the Porto Rican boy who was looking after Beef and Tex mainly, would be living at the Florida house as long as they liked. Of course, any of us could visit whenever.

Sayed took over the lease of Ulvescott Manor in November with the intention of giving up his post in January and moving into a further refurbished Manor before Easter. His other trusted assistant Walid, with the bodyguard and driver, would also be in residence and we were all invited to keep him company whenever we felt like it. The best thing for Khaled was that Iyad would be brought over and cared for there probably later in the year.

Safar started his third year writing up the first chapters of his thesis. He'd got bogged down over translating a very old document in ancient Spanish and Arabic and had to wait for it to be done for him as Ma had struggled but the archaisms were very technical and Safar's actual knowledge of written Arabic was very rudimentary. But he was busy practising and we arranged for Johnny McIver to accompany him to London to take his organ exams. They stayed at the flat in Kensington as the Royal College of Organists building was just across the road. They must have shared a room as I heard Safar on the 'phone to Francis when he returned. “.....And you're right, Francis....” Then came the usual giggle. “....from tiny acorns mighty oaks grow..... Wow!” I had wondered why the stay had been extended from the expected three days to five! Ma did say she thought Johnny was a very personable young man. Safar added ARCO to his BA and LRAM.

He shook his head. “It's not just that. I'm supposed to be a Muslim but I don't think I am really. I don't know anything about it. And Khaled's not much help, he says he just remembers bits of the Koran they made him learn but that's all and that's all hazy. He just laughed and said as far as he knew we both got the chop to mark us out, but so did Leo Weinstein at school. He was Jewish but he said his parents didn't go to synagogue. So I don't really know anything. What happens if she asks me?”

“That's a question which might get asked later,” I said. “Why don't you ask Ludo. He'll know all about religions. I'm afraid I don't know anything.” I smiled. “You know quite well we took on two scraps of humanity and never asked any questions about whether you were green, blue or striped or whether you were C of E, R.C, Rastafarian or Hindu.” He laughed. I went on. “You were two naked little pagans in the bath as far as I was concerned when I saw all of you first. The only difference between you and Cally and the others around here as far as I know, having inspected the lot of you either voluntarily or compulsorily many times before and since then, is you and your brother tan a bit more easily and you pinch your Mum's hand lotion now when you run out of your own!”

“You've read the book?” He nodded. “I expect James told you about the diaries” He nodded again. “And who instructed Grunty?” 'Tiger' he murmured. “Well, that's quite a few generations, so as far as I know, boys have always been the same. It's in their nature. Now, more importantly, tell me about the librarian, and she's coming to supper on Saturday if you ask her. I'll arrange it with Anne and we'll ban the others!” I laughed. “Ibrahim's going to be at Tony's and I don't suppose you want father to hear anything yet and Brad, and I expect Tris, will be with them. I know, what about Thingy, the organist....” I could never remember his name.... I remembered. A Welsh lad. “...Lewis. He's got a girlfriend because I've seen him with her....”

“Dad,” he said, looking much more relaxed, “Stop taking the mickey. You're not ancient... yet! Anyway, she's Charlotte Holmes and Lew's girlfriend is Cressida...., Cressida Grosvenor. They both know you because they both took French Subsid and...” He laughed. “....and Cressy says all the girls used to sit in the front row at your lectures because they thought you were tall, dark and handsome.... ....Dad, you mustn't say anything, will you?”

He snickered, then looked serious. “They only made Khaled do it because he was the eldest son. Ibrahim told me I've been crossed off any lists. With father leaving I'm a nobody as far as they're concerned. It doesn't worry me. Ibrahim said they'll make me an allowance, but I'd rather earn my living. That is, if I can. And it's alright for Khaled coming. I told him and he knows.”

I thought no more about it and remembered just in time that it would be Anne's birthday on the Sunday so went into Heffers and bought her three volumes of the latest outpourings on her special interests plus arranging for large amounts of flowers to be delivered as well. When one's wife is a year older it is useful to keep such things in mind! I know what the boys would say when the books were unwrapped, “Ooooh No! Books?” But that's not how academics think. Or do they?

Sam and Nick turned up Saturday afternoon early and I had the inkling that there seemed to be more preparation going on than necessary for a dinner for nine. Then Benjy arrived, looking very winsome when he changed into his chequered cook's trousers, white jacket and white hat. Three of them? I went into the dining room and saw the table had been extended fully and laid for fifteen. I didn't dare enquire but just hoped that Safar would be able to cope. I didn't know if I could!

At seven thirty, on the dot, Safar opened the door and in came the two girls and Lewis. I must say if he was keen on Charlotte, or Charlie as I was informed she was to be called, I could see why. She was gorgeous, and so was Cressy. All I could think was that Lewis and Safar were two lucky lads. Jody and Peter, dressed immaculately in matching roll neck sweaters and very becoming dark grey slacks were introduced. Both girls said how wonderful the performance they had seen at Covent Garden with the pair in had been. Lewis said he was most impressed with the improvement in the orchestral playing over the past year. Jody said, of course it was all due to my friend, the new associate conductor, Tim Parker. So all was going well. Khaled passed round drinks and nibbles and everything was going to plan. He actually made a very good bartender. We could smell the dinner cooking. Benjy had informed me that the main course would be roast leg of lamb in a honey and mustard glaze with garlic inserts. Sounded alright and the smells emanating from the kitchen boded well. Benjamin Farquarson-Forbes was in charge!

At a quarter to eight the front door bell rang again. I went along with Safar to see who the other guests were. Safar was still under the impression only nine would be dining. He looked at me with such an impassive face as the assembled throng was revealed. I managed to croak “Not me” as I ushered them in. Anyway they were all smartly dressed. But, and it was a big but, they were all in open-necked shirts, kilts, sporrans and long socks. Francis came in first with Rory. Both in Cameron kilts. Rory bearing a guitar case.

The next pair who entered were Tristan and Ibrahim. One in the same tartan as the large Brad and the other sporting the colours of the last one to enter, Sergeant Johnny McIver.... I could only think that Francis must be having a whale of a time - with two whales especially and a slimmer dolphin, Ibrahim. And Ibrahim, in a kilt! I must say he looked superb. He looked at me and winked. He, if not I, was enjoying every moment.

I got no further. “Dad....., It's Mum's birthday tomorrow and we all got invited. We've brought her present with us. We promise......” He looked round at Brad who was bending down and removing a guitar from its case and in so doing was showing his hairy tree trunks of legs from a back view of his kilt. “....But Brad does complain it's a bit draughty because.....” He laughed. “.......It's OK Dad, we promise, though Johnny forbad us to wear anything...” He turned to Johnny who was mouthing silent Scottish imprecations at Francis. “....It's OK Johnny, we all promise not to cross our legs when sitting down.”

Francis grinned. “We all know that, but she invited us as company for you.” He turned and pointed a finger at a grinning Ibrahim. “And she said if Ibrahim says a word to his father she'll let Grunty loose on him. She did Greek so she knows what orchidectomy means! And so does Ibrahim now. Eh, mate?” Ibrahim just stopped grinning and shook his head resignedly. “Can we come in now?” He looked at Safar who was still staring silently at them all. “Lead on, MacDuff!”

Then Charlie said her brother was at Edinburgh when Rory was performing there..... Bare bums were not mentioned... thankfully. Well...., it seemed the only one not known was Johnny, who then startled Anne by asking if she agreed with some obscure academic over some even more obscure point in medieval history. It turned out his younger sister, a Master's student at Glasgow in history, was over the moon that he knew THE DR THOMSON, that is, Dr Anne Thomson.... Spare pricks?? I never got a look in. Yes, I did have to signal to Francis, sitting on the settee opposite, kilt over the top of his knees, legs apart at one point, showing his all to the angels. Luckily, or, unluckily, for the girls, no one were sitting in line of sight except me and Ibrahim. He giggled and had to be silenced with the offer of another fill-up of his glass with the punch which Khaled, with his non-alcoholic heritage, had concocted with the addition of most of the left over liqueurs bought on numerous trips to France and Italy, Spain and Greece..... Must say it tasted good, but, by Golly, it was lethal!!

Well, the evening was a great success. My, young Benjy was going to be a real asset to the Buttery. The dinner was a real achievement for him. Luckily he realised that most of the fifteen were starving students - at least, they acted the part most convincingly. Rory, sitting next to me at table was getting quite expansive as the wine flowed and the punch kicked in, and remarked that he hadn't had such a feast before. In fact, in one expansive moment he whispered to me that his father had told him he'd squeezed my cojones when I was clad in the kilt. What possessed Duncan, that upright Scots Headmaster, to divulge such a thing to his son.....? What possessed a young, well, mature undergraduate to tell a well-established don that his father had taken advantage of a young lad's.....? And to veil the reference in a second language...? But then, I had tasted the seed from those cojones under that other kilt, which at some time produced young Rory....! Call it quits!! I hadn't better divulge that. But from the way in which Ibrahim and Francis looked at the very handsome Rory I wondered who was tasting whose seed now? My bet was that all three were experiencing the fruits of each other's cojones with my friend's son having the advantage over me in tasting my son's yield as his father had not tasted mine. It's amazing the thoughts and the indiscretions which occur when a powerful alcoholic punch, a good dinner and associated excellent wines are combined!

As we withdrew to the drawing room the lads revealed their reason for all being together other than the invite from Anne. Rory and Brad were excellent duettists on the guitars and led the group in a sequence of songs from the shows, Safar showing unknown talent by singing three solos from The Sound of Music, and Johnny sang a couple of Scots ballads. Brad sang some Country and Western, Jody and Peter sang 'My Way' and 'These Foolish Things' with all sorts of risque additions, and at midnight we all sang Happy Birthday to You. It was their way of saying a big thankyou. So all were in good humour, none more than me now, all this fuelled by more alcoholic stimulants and coffee with a smiling Benjy brought in to prolonged applause. Safar was beaming as Charlie congratulated him on the dinner. It was a triumph for him.

Sayed came to stay the next weekend from Ulvescott and asked if I approved of Charlotte Holmes. With as straight a face as possible I said I did, wholeheartedly. I then had to laugh and ask how he knew. “I have my means,” he said unsmilingly, nose in air. I said I hoped it didn't mean that his trusted aide was going to end up as a eunuch as Anne had threatened. He then laughed and said he would have ended up as a eunuch if he had told him. No! Safar had asked Francis to 'phone him on the Monday morning and tell him all about her. He said he had no objection - but to wait a little while.

After Peter and Jody's departure towards the end of August we took off, with Khaled and Safar, to Italy. Francis, with Brad and Rory in tow had gone to Paris, he to begin his acclimatisation to French medicine and the qualifying course and they to savour the delights of the French capital. They stayed in what was now Daniel's flat. His parents had given him it mainly for his clients who visited to buy wines. However he was more than happy for Francis to have it while he was studying. He'd said to me that little inquisitive boy had grown up to be the most handsomest man he knew! As Daniel as a young man had been really beautiful this was a great compliment. And, of course, they shared the heritage of the birthmark, too.

Our trip to Italy started in Rome as usual. The previously priapic Giovanni was now a fully-fledged priest and was the curate-in-charge of the parish. He was another firebomb like 'Uncle Flea' had been. He was bigger, of course, and now sported his own black beard like his elder brothers and really put the fear of God into some of the more unruly elements in the parish. At least that was what Monsignor Mike said, who appeared in his black cassock with the red buttons and red cummerbund the boys had wondered why he wasn't wearing so many years ago.

It was while dodging a hell-bent on annihilating a tourist Italian driver that I tripped on the kerb and twisted my knee. Unluckily it was my knee with the pin in it. I had to rest it that afternoon while Anne took the pair up the Appian Way to see the catacombs. I said I couldn't climb up and down the stairs. Safar was much taken with the catacomb where the remains of St Cecilia, the patron saint of music, were found. I felt better the next day so accompanied them to Santa Cecilia in Trastevere where, in the church, was the place where it was said she was martyred. So our culture trek continued with me taking welcome breaks, sitting outside cafes where the coffee cost twice as much as standing at the bar, and then we took the train up to Florence and spent four days reliving our earlier visits. We all rubbed the Boar's Nose again as that place wove its magical spell once more. On then to Rapallo, to the Amati villa. Quietness, sea and sunshine and the delightful company of Maria with four of the brood. Silvio was there with the elegant wife and two small children. Two girls, absolutely doted on by parents, uncles and grandma. Grandpa was working too hard to spend time wasting time. That's what the most hirsute, bearded Bruno told me. He, himself, was too busy fomenting unrest in the university he told me than to bother with women and children. All said, in very good English, with a grin on his face beneath that fearsome bush.

Both Julio and that first met little bundle of shyness, Domenico, were equally hairy, lounging on the terrace in what seemed to be even more minuscule swim trunks than twelve years before. Twelve years before, I remembered, neither had worn swimming trunks most of the time and on subsequent visits, into their teens, seemed, like my lot, to prefer nakedness to being clothed. Yes, there was the time when either Safar or Stephen had annoyed them or teased them just a bit too much and I came out of my study because they were making the most unholy row and there were the four, all nude, wrestling in the corridor outside their room very much like Laocoon and his two sons battling the serpents - the single serpent here could have been any of them as they all grabbed and writhed and shouted when susceptible or delicate parts were grappled. As Mrs Pring was expected in twenty minutes to start cleaning I smacked as many bare behinds as I could and pushed the yelping recipients into the bedroom and told them to wash and get dressed or they wouldn't be getting any breakfast. The Italian pair had the beginnings of their furriness even then but, as the four stood in a row, rubbing their backsides, not at all contrite and still giggling, I saw that the two still only had boyish lengths. Well-used no doubt, from the squeals heard at bedtimes, but not to match those Thomson poles on Francis and James at that age. Now early twenties they had grown into two quite muscular hunks who spent a lot of time at the gym and displayed respectably filled pouches below their slim hips and wide powerful-looking shoulders. Both were studying Pharmacy as they wanted to open their own business and were going to concentrate on products for body-builders and athletes. Domenico said he had very fond memories of Stephen and could he and Julio come to stay again as he wanted to see him dance again. Any time, I said.

The rest at the villa did my leg good. I didn't go on any of the treks and certainly not on the day long trip to San Fruttuoso under Monte Portofino. All six of the lads went with Anne as she wanted to see the old abbey and I stayed with Maria and Margaretta and her daughters and lazed in the sun, drank wine, ate, read and chatted and had a perfect day. They returned, noisy, sun-burnt and wind-swept, as they had taken a boat, and incredibly hungry. All were full of praise for Anne who had been in her element explaining all the sights, the architecture and the tombs. I could see Safar and Khaled were proud of their Mum and the others, all most intelligent and well-read, were equally impressed.

Meantime, Safar had his viva, announced his engagement and also started as a teaching fellow in the Music faculty. We all gathered when he received his degree at one of the supernumerary ceremonies and I don't think I have ever seen such a proud father as Sayed. Actually, a very proud father stood next to a very proud Dad in his doctoral scarlet with a row of proud brothers, three in their own gowns and hoods. Oh, and I nearly forgot. A very proud Mum, also in her own doctoral scarlet. Also Litt D.

After that I was asked how I felt. I had my blood pressure and temperature taken. The nurse, Janet, I found had known Francis for years. Anyway, Mr Forbes-Farquarson would be looking at my knee in the morning. I looked at Safar. Forbes-Farquarson? Benjy? Benjy's father? We both were obviously processing this when Anne arrived, looking relieved I'd survived. I found Francis had arrived back from Paris that afternoon and had come more-or-less straight to the hospital. No more visitors though today was decreed.

The knee was pronounced satisfactory in the morning. Mr Forbes-Farquarson, who proved to be Benjy's father, said I could start using it very gradually, but to put no weight on it. In the afternoon a physiotherapist started me on exercises and after four days I went home ready for the onslaught of Christmas. As it was deemed too soon to climb stairs without supervision I had a bed in Anne's study downstairs and held court to a succession of visitors, including Lachs, who left me with three folders of what he said was highly sensitive German information and he would like a translation pronto, if not before, as I had nothing else to do except play with myself. I said speak for yourself, mate, we all know why soldiers have hairy palms! He wrinkled his nose and said he was particularly busy on several fronts, what with his German contacts and the fact that Sadat of Egypt was causing a bit of a hooha with his overtures to Israel. Sayed's country's new ambassador was making waves and Ibrahim was going to resign and needed somewhere to retreat to, Ulvescott was being watched. It was difficult for Ibrahim as a close relative was causing a stink over his son being at school in Scotland and he wanted his son over here as well. I didn't know about Ibrahim's son being in the UK and Lachs said it was all a pig's ear and done without consulting him.

Apparently Tariq, Ibrahim's son, had been at an international prep school in Switzerland and had now, at the age of thirteen been brought over to the UK and deposited at a school in Scotland, Kinloch, in their prep school ready to move into the senior school the next September. Ibrahim had not been told and had only found out when a well-meaning relative had contacted him. He didn't know his son at all and from what Lachs had been able to find out the boy was a spoilt brat. So, to cut a long matter short could Ibrahim stay with us for a while or at Tony's, and could we put up with the spoilt brat for the school holidays? Lachs also said arrangements were being made to bring Khaled's son Iyad over. Sayed thought it would be a wise move. There were murmurs about Iraq. Things might move fast.

We were going to have a houseful for Christmas. Diane and the twins came down two days after I came out of hospital and James would be down, ready for Christmas in a few days time. Jack and Saf would be four two days after Christmas. They were a pair of inquisitive creatures and we spent lots of time together with me reading to them from favourite books. Both could read and vied with each other to show Grandpa what they could do and were much amused as Rory suggested I borrow his kilt, long socks and sporran instead of lounging around in a dressing gown. I had fond memories of being seventeen and his grandfather's helpfulness. “Grandpa got his dress on,” Jack announced to the milkman when he came to collect his money. As I was sitting in the kitchen at the time he could see me through the backdoor and was relieved I hadn't become a transvestite.

As Christmas Day was a Sunday, Stephen, Jody and Peter were performing on Christmas Eve afternoon. Lisa brought young Andrew, now twenty-two months old, down a couple of days before as the three of them would be next door with her parents, a hugely pregnant Caroline and a proud parent-to-be Garth. Jody and Peter would be in their usual room with our newly minted Dr Midge, as they kept referring to him, much to his annoyance and their discomfiture as he managed to retaliate by insisting on sleeping between them. “Abstinence is good for you, occasionally!” I heard him announce as they went up to bed Christmas evening. As all three had imbibed freely of various intoxicating liquors it couldn't have been that sort of abstinence. Khaled was in his own room - Safar remarking he was open to any offers.

Lisa was rejoining the company in January, having 'got her figure back' as she put it. She still looked very young and very slim and the couple were so in love as were the pair of lads. Jody and Peter were perfect foils for each other. They were inimitable mimics and we heard every tale, salacious or not, about theatre life, acted out, embellished and embroidered but without malice. As the five still lived in the Kensington flat with Ma and Pa, Ma said it kept them young. Pa said it kept them poor as all their friends congregated there as well and had to be fed and watered as well. Ma told him he should be grateful anyone ever wanted to consort with an old crosspatch like him. Peter and Jody, present at the time and use to his ways stood either side of his chair and warbled through three verses, improvised or not, but very funny of 'If you were the only Sir in the world, And I was your only toy.....”. You can't win. As they finished he put his arms round their waists. “Why couldn't I have had a couple of sons like you? At least you could entertain me in my old age......” He realised I might be offended...... I wouldn't have been. A couple of brothers like that pair would have been heaven! “Well,” he said, “That other one has continued the line..... I can't be too unhappy.”

So, from the end of term and the beginning of the school holidays the house gradually filled up. Ibrahim and Johnny collected Tariq off the early morning train in London. They arrived a couple of hours later with this sullen, tired-looking thirteen-year-old. He was dressed in his Kinloch School uniform, which after a night on the train from Scotland looked a bit rumpled. He looked at Anne and me very suspiciously. Me in kilt and bandaged knee sitting in the kitchen having just had breakfast, with Anne, dressed in pullover and slacks cooking scrambled eggs for Safar, who had commandeered the Times and was still in his dressing gown, and two boiled eggs for Khaled who, at least, was dressed and had taken out the business pages to read before going off to work.

Very warily he shook hands with us all but said nothing. That was until Anne asked if he would like some breakfast. Scrambled eggs on toast? He did smile a bit and said 'Please'. Oh dear, I hoped we hadn't got another Simon. But then, his churlishness was fairly transitory . I doubted if young Tariq was quite at the stage of development dear Simon had been, though looking at him as he sat wolfing down his second plate of food I could see the beginning of an adolescent moustache. As I drank my coffee I noted he kept glancing furtively at all these adults sitting round the table. He did look at Ibrahim, the father he had met for the first time this morning, a bit more than the burly Johnny sitting next to him. Safar he was obviously puzzled about, especially as he referred to me as 'Dad' several times. Khaled kept glancing at him but kept quiet. I knew he was thinking of his own son. Tariq seemed even more puzzled when Ibrahim called me 'Dad' as well, but also called me 'Jacko' in between. I had persuaded him to call me that when we were with Sayed but usually when the lads were around he called me 'Dad' like the rest of them.

Pandemonium ensued for a while as the three were introduced, made to sit down and be quiet while Ibrahim explained what was happening. Tariq managed to finish his plate of food and sat impassively. Anne resumed breaking eggs, whipping them up and producing more and more scrambled egg. Khaled waved us all good bye, saying something about some people had to work and went off. The noise, like a bright light attracting moths, attracted two bustling young creatures who appeared in the doorway, round-eyed at the sight of most of their favourite uncles. Jack and Saf came running in to be gathered up by Brad and Francis and patted by Rory. Even more pandemonium until they settled. They then eyed Tariq.

Tariq had no time to be the spoiled brat. Jack and Saf took him over and he was immediately part of the family. It took him a few days to realise about the mechanics of a busy household. Ibrahim shared the small spare room with him and told me a couple of days later that Tariq had clung to him all night the first night in silence but by the second night had relaxed and they had been able to talk and Ibrahim was able to explain why the separation had happened. He said that the immediate acceptance of Tariq by Jack and Saf had been the key.

There was just one small problem. When Francis came looking for morning coffee on the third day after Tariq had arrived Ibrahim asked him if he could have a chat. A few minutes later the three of them went upstairs. A rather relieved Ibrahim reappeared and said Francis was giving Tariq a little talk because he would need an operation. The first night when Tariq was in the bath Ibrahim had noticed when he stood up he only seemed to have one ball in the developing sac. Francis confirmed by examining Tariq that he had an undescended testicle and would need a simple procedure to correct it. He was sure he could arrange for the lad to be dealt with quickly but he would need time to recuperate before returning to school. As the regime at Kinloch was fairly strict with emphasis on games and sport Francis didn't think it would be a good idea for him to return until the Summer term. So, could he stay with us?

Two days before Christmas James arrived. More pandemonium, though I must say, he was strict with the twins over their behaviour. I did come in for some of his raillery. He would ask, luckily sotto voce, if I wanted to pee and should he send for Jem and Sam. I was excused washing-up so he got a couple of sharp smacks on his backside with my walking stick instead of the usual flicking with a tea-towel. “Grandpa hit Dad....” said Jack on the first occasion, “.....Can we do it?” asked Saf, who had been reprimanded for screeching when Rory had tickled him.

Another almost permanent fixture was Johnny. Although he stayed at Tony and Francis's house he was really keeping an eye on Ibrahim, or at least, watching out for any malefactors in the area. He and Francis would go running a couple of times a day, pursued by the large figure of Brad and the much thinner Rory. He always reported back to his headquarters on return and all seemed to be quiet.

So, Christmas came. It was decided no expensive presents. James said to Ibrahim he'd heard that one of the Arab young ladies in London told her father she wanted a music centre for Christmas so he gave her one, the Royal Festival Hall. Ibrahim countered by saying a friend of his had gone to see a lawyer and asked how much it would cost to ask three questions. The lawyer said 'Five hundred pounds'. 'That's a lot of money, isn't it?' the friend said. 'Yes', said the lawyer, 'and what is your third question?' Tariq did get a very up-to-date Sinclair electronic calculator and the boys had books galore and the beginnings of an electric train set from Pa. He said his great-grandsons should be engineers! Actually Rory, Ibrahim and Brad played with it more than the poor boys.

James announced he was taking a few days off as no-one wanted lawyers over Christmas. Howls of 'No-one wants lawyers any time full stop' met this. He then politely asked if they could stay until after New Year. Before the main decision-maker of the household could say anything Anne said they could. So with Jody and Peter not needed until the Monday after New Year's Day, and with Ibrahim and Tariq, plus our usuals, Safar and Khaled, we still had a houseful. Boxing Day morning Tariq and the twins were transfixed when the music started in Jody and Peter's room and Stephen and Lisa also appeared in their exercise kit to do class. An hour later I thought we might be having three more ballet dancers in the family. Stephen and Lisa went back next door but Jody and Peter had to demonstrate movements to the three boys and they tried to copy. So, between that, train set, books and calculator, things were pretty quiet for that day. Tariq was too busy to be a spoilt brat.

Francis was returning to France after New Year so he spent a couple of hours at the hospital booking in Tariq for the operation on the Wednesday after New Year's Day. He had to go for an examination on Thursday by the surgeon who was going to do it. I asked Ibrahim how he felt about it. He said he was actually rather shy and hadn't realised he was missing a bit. Craftily, we had already got him to help bath the twins and so he saw, even in their tight little sacs, the two peanuts they had each. In fact, as I was bathing the twins that night I suggested he should get in with them. He was a bit shy at first but as soon as the twins said they wanted him in he slipped off his clothes and stepped in. Yes, for a thirteen-year-old he was developing. He had the beginnings of a black bush above his circumcised cock. And, yes, it was noticeable that there was something else missing. I suppose the twins were so use to seeing their father wandering about in the nude they took only a cursory glance. Tariq was very light-skinned so only looked as if he had an all over tan. I thought they might have commented on his lack of foreskin but they were more interested in lathering him with the soap-filled sponge and seeing whether they could hide him under all the soap suds.

In the morning Ibrahim said Tariq had looked very closely at him as he undressed and he'd made sure Tariq had seen his balls. Ibrahim had then explained to him he would look just like that in a very few year's time once the operation was done and he had grown. Ibrahim said the poor kid hadn't a clue about growing-up and had confessed he'd been quite scared at the school in Switzerland when a couple of the older boys had tried to examine him because he was circumcised. Ibrahim said it wasn't like his Public School with organised games and where he was examined almost daily as English boys are rarely snipped. In fact, Francis later gave Tariq the usual talk about the birds and the bees and said he was quite impressed at the questions asked. He said he was, as far as he could remember, like Safar and Khaled had been at that age and he was likely to 'come on stream', as he put it, with a smile, fairly soon, if he hadn't already. He said while he was examining him Tariq had had an erection but seemed more concerned about the probing fingers. Ibrahim said he would explain a bit more about masturbation if he thought the boy was already there. He said it was difficult for the kid as they were sharing a bed - he grinned and said it was difficult! Francis gave him a punch on the arm and they grinned at each other. Ibrahim was going to miss Francis when he moved to France with Tony.

Tuesday morning we were making plans for the day when the 'phone rang. It was Lachs. He said a very special delivery was being made later that morning. Be prepared! When he told me what it was I shouted for Khaled who was getting ready to go to work for half the day to check on share movements. When he heard the news he turned, flung his arms round me and burst into tears. The 'phone rang again and it was Sayed. He wanted to speak to Khaled. Great excitement. Khaled then 'phoned his secretary and said something had cropped up and he wouldn't be coming in.

We took them indoors. The driver brought in several bags and with Khaled having taken Iyad up to his bedroom to talk to him we all went into the kitchen. A rather bemused Captain Parks and a bemused, but stoical Sergeant Manners, were plied with tea, coffee, biscuits, sandwiches and a myriad questions. I looked closely at the Captain as she was explaining to Safar that she had studied Arabic here in Cambridge at Girton....... “And you took French as a subsid,” I said. I had recognised her from at least ten years previously.

“Yes, Dr Thomson,” she said, laughing and looking firstly at Anne, “And we used to flutter our eyelashes at you but it never put you off your lecturing. You talked about that book. All the boys had photocopies of your articles and wouldn't let us see them. Actually my brother, Philip, was one of your students. You had him for tutorials in his third year - must have been 1968.” She laughed. “He nearly got rusticated for all that graffiti near the Senate House. A couple of coppers caught him but he told the Dean he was only reading it.”

I had said he should translate that into French and his next essay, in French, please, should be on the topic of the French monarch, who as a boy, would ask visitors or courtiers to kiss his cock. References not given today but to be fully cited. Needless to say, to the amusement of the two other tutees, he gave a perfect resume of the young years, especially, of Louis XIII (1601 - 1643). He then continued to say that Louis XV had to be circumcised before he could impregnate his Queen and that Louis XVI was renowned for his bracquemart assez considerable. He stood and looked at my picture, “Cher Docteur Thomson a un bracquemart aussi assez considerable......”.

What we hadn't noticed while all this chat was going on, with flapping ears of James, Diane, Jody, Peter, Safar and Ibrahim, that three figures had disappeared. I limped upstairs slowly with Anne and Juliet following and there, sitting on the edge of the bed, on either side of Iyad were Jack and Saf holding a hand each with Tariq kneeling in front of him. It reminded me so much of that day when two frightened little boys were comforted and taken over by four youngsters. Tariq was smiling and holding onto Khaled's hand who was kneeling beside him.

We found Iyad could speak a little English. Tariq was told not to talk in Arabic to him and by the time James and his family left with him on the Monday after New Year's Day he was understanding a lot and saying words and simple phrases. The boys were so happy, they had a bigger brother. Tariq was rather sad to see him go but there was the promise of holidays. Khaled was again separated from his son but he knew he was loved and would be cared for like another son and, from his own experience with us, he was more than content.

Tariq had to be sorted out. He was a bit scared about being taken to the hospital but Ibrahim and Anne took him firstly for the examination by the surgeon. He came back from that looking a bit apprehensive. As he was rather advanced in pubic hair growth the surgeon asked if he could be shaved before he came in the following Wednesday morning. Ibrahim said he was more worried about that than having the operation.

Tuesday evening, before his bath, was scheduled for that first little operation. Before Jody and Peter left there was a bit of banter between them and Ibrahim about getting the right stroke when shaving round 'the root' as they put it. They offered to demonstrate on him but he said he didn't even want a pom-pom finish like Jody had last year. Oh! So Ibrahim had inspected Jody. I wasn't surprised, though, when he said goodbye to them as they left to return to London, that he'd try to come and see them as soon as possible.

Ibrahim laughed out loud. “I was surprised how much there was when it all came off and then the poor kid got embarrassed when he went hard while I was shaving him because I had to hold it. It happened when Francis examined him, too. I said it happens to all boys. I don't remember I was like that at that age, though. Looked quite big.” He looked at me. “James told us one day what happened when he was in the bath and he said he was so scared but you took no notice.” He laughed again. “I took a leaf out of your book and said the same as you told James. Happens to all boys!”

Tariq had his operation and two old crocks, me and him, sat and chatted and played Ludo and Monopoly and he tried out his French and he called me Grandpa. No spoilt brat. After a week he went back to the hospital and had the suspensory bandage removed and the stitches out. That night I was summoned to the bathroom after Ibrahim had supervised his bath. He was standing proudly in the bath. His shaved area surmounted an early adolescent, growing cock, with a saggy scrotum below, now filled with its proper contents. And, like Matt and Hans, he was deformed! His newly found left ball most definitely hung lower than his right!

Two days later Ibrahim told us the lad had had his first wet dream. He'd been rather distressed waking up all wet and sticky in the boxer shorts he wore in bed. Ibrahim said he'd explained it all to him and he was just as Francis had told him and he was certainly a proper boy now. I'm afraid the men in the family cast knowing looks at each other as Tariq disappeared off to the bathroom at least three times a day for more minutes than it takes to have a pee or a shit. Boys of thirteen find their first experiences in producing the genie from Aladdin's lamp to be most interesting and most pleasurable. And not just thirteen-year-olds!

Tariq's future had to be decided. It was not a good idea for him to go back to Kinloch for even part of the term. In fact, Ibrahim asked if he could stay with us and go to school in Cambridge. He really wanted the boy to have a family life. He said he himself had only really known school and then university and hadn't realised how valuable a family was until he'd been enveloped and accepted by ours. Safar who was there at the time said he couldn't imagine not being at home. We asked Rory who had been at Kinloch for those last two years of his school-life for his opinion. He said it was a good school but it all depended on fitting-in. It paid to be sporty and to be one who could join in a crowd. He said it took a time for him to adjust, but he was older and he'd been accepted as he had the expertise on the guitar as well as being a reasonably good rugger player. Perhaps Tariq could do the same as he had. Grammar School until after the first crop of exams then the transfer. He grinned and said one reason for going to the boarding school was because his father had taken over the Headship of the school he was at at the time.

Tariq had already met Perry Paterson, the son of the neighbours next to the Gibsons next door. He was three months older than Tariq and would be in the same form. It was just like Grunty and Francis all over again. Perry was just beginning to grow but would be short and stocky like Tariq. He was also rugger mad like the young Gibsons had been and, as soon as Tariq could run, had him retrieving balls on the field behind the houses. They clicked immediately. Perry was a bit of a loner but needed a friend. Here was Tariq, ready-made. Oh, and within weeks, Ibrahim heard them masturbating together in the bathroom one afternoon! He crept away knowing that friendship was being cemented in the usual boyish way.

After Easter Ibrahim moved to Ulvescott where Sayed had set up his little enclave. Over the summer Francis went and stayed there as Tony was in the States as Visiting Fellow in Creative Writing at one of the Ivy League universities. In the summer the lawyers at last made a decision about the book. It was a bit too obvious who certain boys were. Not to be published, yet! Tony had finished another novel and that was published instead.

Johnny McIver, on one of his visits on weekend leave early in the year, announced he was retiring from the Army. Tony had offered him a job as general dogsbody, major-domo or whatever at the villa in France. He and a mate of his as assistant dogsbody, level of mate-hood not specified but guessed, would be going out as soon as their discharge papers were signed. Safar asked if he really needed papers for a discharge and was promptly shown a bit of unarmed combat in exchange for that little query.

As usual our summer plans were set awry. We had to get the wedding of Safar to Charlotte out of the way first. No, it was a wonderful affair. Charlie's family had accepted that so-gentle, but tough, young man to their hearts. Luckily for us they were to live close-by as both Anne and I would miss him so much. It was a real Cambridge wedding. On Saturday August the fourth they got married in the Register Office and then went immediately to King's where everyone was welcomed by the organ pealing in the chapel. The wedding breakfast was held in the Dining Hall opposite and James was his best man. The three page boys in sailor suits were Saf, Jack and Iyad, and Tariq, in morning suit, had been the ring bearer.

We had planned to go to Rome taking Tariq and his now boon companion, Perry, with us. Unfortunately, on the Sunday before the Wednesday we were to set off, the Pope died. Mike 'phoned us to say Rome was in chaos. Mike said he was to act as one of the cardinal's assistant so might have some inside stories. Anyway, we were going on to stay at the Amati villa at Rapallo afterwards so arranged to go there for the whole holiday. The boys were delighted and so was Anne as there were two or three more churches she needed to see and photograph. I was quite happy. Rome is hot in August and, though I thrived on heat, it would have been hell coping with all the extra throng of tourists, priests, nuns, cardinals, whoever. I did say hell!

Perry had his fourteenth birthday while we were there and I got Tariq to buy him one of the usual minimal bathing suits. I bought Tariq one as well and the two pubescent gallants flaunted their developing wares by lounging around the pool in all sorts of provocative poses. Julio and Domenico were in residence and the two lads were pop-eyed both with the hairiness and the muscle development of the pair. They still had another year to do before qualifying, but confessed they had been trying out various potions, pills and injections, I assumed hormones of some sort, in conjunction with their exercising and even over the year since I'd seen them last the changes were most remarkable. They admitted there might be side-effects and had decided not to experiment any more on themselves but they had a very good idea of combinations and dosages. Both the boys wanted to know more but were warned off trying anything without supervision and to let nature take its course until they were fully mature. They did get the boys to try the machines they had in the basement of the villa. They reminded me of Inquisition torture apparatus but the boys were soon au fait with simple exercises on chest exercisers, horizontal benches and seats surrounded by wires, pulleys and weights. I thought if the kids wore themselves out exercising and swimming in the pool they would be too tired to masturbate. From the grunts and groans from their bedroom - open windows - as I strolled on several evenings in the garden well after the time they'd gone to bed, they were exercising other parts quite vigorously as well.

We thought we might just visit Rome for a few days after the tumult of Pope John Paul the First being elected but the boys had to return to get ready for their Fourth Year. We came home to the news that Grunty and Valerie were expecting their third child and that, sadly, the Duchess had died. So Tariq and Perry were introduced to Ulvescott on a sad occasion for us but a happy one for them. Sayed said they must have Piers' room and both, later, wanted to know if the boy lived there as well. Two more accepted. What we didn't know until after our return home was that Francis and Ibrahim had been turfed out of the room to make way for the youngsters. Anyway, Francis had to return to Paris to complete his course.

Francis qualified later in the year but he and Tony, with the two, now ex-military, plus cook, housekeeper, gardener and, no doubt frequently ravished gardener's boy, made up the entourage at the villa from September onwards. Their plan was to live there most of the year and Tony to spend time exercising his writing hand on more books and his thinking on creative writing courses for the clamouring American market. Francis began with a few patients on the ex-pat circuit plus locum at the local hospital, but his bedside manner seemed to go down well with an increasing number of French patients so he was kept busy. Brad also took up residence and I never found out from where his income was derived - rumours of a deceased rich grandmother were abundant. From information received I felt he left pretty deep dents in Francis's bed and he and the gardener's boy seemed to spend inordinate amounts of time hoeing and weeding the far reaches of the quite extensive grounds.

Our lives became somewhat quieter with the departure of our sons. We still had a constant stream of visitors and at weekends we usually had several staying. The dancers were in great demand. Stephen and the other two males were now principal dancers and were appearing more and more in demanding roles. Lisa took things more steadily. She and Stephen wanted another child and soon after the birth of Safar and Charlotte's son, James Khaled Al-Hamed on May the first, Stephen and Lisa announced she was pregnant. Peter David Lachlan Cameron Thomson was born on Christmas Day.

Ibrahim was a constant visitor too. He and Tariq had a close father-son relationship even though there had been that long initial separation and now only meeting at infrequent intervals. But Tariq was developing into another lad just like Safar. He was contemplative, very bright and had a very winning personality. I teased him sometimes about the reputation he'd come to us with. He said he just use to play up because quite a few of the fellow pupils were insufferable. Mainly because they were very rich. As Ibrahim was more than comfortably off that was a great thing in Tariq's favour. Being more than well off never cropped up in any of his relationships or discussions with family or friends. He looked on Anne and me as his Grandma and Grandpa. He had little memory of his previous life which he said was mainly in the women's quarters until he was seven when he was shunted off to school. His own grandparents, so Ibrahim said, were too busy trying to outdo other relatives with ostentatious living than to worry about the small fry being produced by sons or daughters. So, we were always addressed in that way even when Jack and Saf appeared with the inscrutable Iyad.

Tariq and his pal Perry were inseparable and Perry seemed to sleep over at our house more than his parents' especially as they moved on into the Fifth Year and began preparing for their examinations. Perry had three older sisters and, I think, relished the more masculine atmosphere in our house even if it was visited frequently by the pair of gay dancers and Rory and his boyfriend, a fellow teacher at the local Further Education establishment. The masculine atmosphere was more than noticeable most mornings when I had to go into their room to roust the pair out of bed to get ready for school. Both heavy sleepers, tired out through hard work and plenty of Games was their excuse. The evidence from rumpled, semen-stained sheets and two nude bodies with substantial morning erections told another tale. They were quite oblivious to all this, probably thinking elderly, to them, grandpa-aged, dons, wouldn't know what boys liked doing best.

At some point early on in the first term of their Fifth Year someone must have passed the latest copy of the hallowed transcript of part of my book to them. One Tuesday morning I went in at eight o'clock having called them much earlier. They were still fast asleep holding tightly to each other and the discarded exercise book, with the latest copy of that episode between the wanton pair of James and Allan and their fellows, lay on the floor just under the bed. Two bare backsides under the single sheet were slapped to remind them of the time. Two bleary-eyed, truly shagged-out creatures moaned as I bundled them off the bed, still clutching each other, their nearly sixteen-year-old well-developed and well-used pricks rampant. That sight was quite familiar. Rolling them out of bed happened at least twice weekly so they were used to me seeing them in that state. But this morning, it was the interesting state of everything in general as well. The night's activities were more than obvious from the state of their shafts and from the more than obvious stains on the bedding, the smell, and from the looks they gave each other as they grabbed a piece of toast and marmalade to eat while cycling like mad things to school. That previous night they had tried out the final act of brotherly love, of trust and devotion, as so many of their fellow travellers along life's path had done in the past. Two days later Tariq came along to my study.

“That copy under your bed?” They were oblivious to the fact it was still there as they rushed to the bathroom in the nude that particular morning - they were more than late and that was all that mattered. I had picked it up and put it, 'The Book', carefully on the dressing table. “I didn't write it, I translated it and that's only part of it.” He stared at me. He went darker as the full enormity of Grandpa having provided the stimulus for their final greatest act became apparent. 'Audacity in the Age...' obviously wasn't yet known to them or their fellow seekers after sexual literature.

“Perry said that's what his cousin Lee told him, he read it ages ago.” The blush made his skin go darker. Dear Tariq had done a James. Lee Paterson was in their Sixth Form and had, obviously, been Perry's sexual mentor. A short stocky boy, like Perry, and like Perry, prone to acne. As part payment for mowing our lawn in the summer I was coaching him in French in preparation for his A level.

On Friday afternoon I put a copy of 'Audacity in the Age...' on Tariq's dressing room table. I knew Perry was staying over for the night. There was silence from the bedroom all Saturday morning. They were both playing in rugger matches on Saturday afternoon so I marvelled at their stamina. They came back looking bruised and battered as usual and went to bed by eight o'clock - they were tired after playing, so they said. Could Perry stay over? I had to call them at half twelve on Sunday morning to remind them lunch was at one... I said to Tariq after lunch that on no account was he to take the book to school. He grinned and wrinkled his nose. “No,” he said, “We promise. Anyway we haven't finished reading it yet.”

It was about the time that he started to be a permanent fixture at tea-time that Anne complained she couldn't find the one pound weight which went with her very posh kitchen scales as it was time to bake the Christmas cake. The brass weights were a bit like chessmen, a bulbous flat bottom with a shank and a loop at the top. I noticed a furtive look between the three when she announced the loss. I was getting accused in a roundabout way, as head bottle-washer and scullery-lad, of disposing it in the rubbish. I was sure I hadn't. Then a thought struck me. A memory of a discussion from long ago. Weights - attached to African ears - lengthen - attach to penises? - lengthen? After the three went up to Tariq's bedroom I thought I had better investigate. As I went to the door I could hear giggling. I knocked, then went in immediately. All was revealed. Or, at least, Scott was. He was standing, trousers and pants round his ankles, with Perry adjusting a small velcro sheath circling the end of his cock just above his foreskin covered knob. Attached to the sheath were two pieces of string looped through the top of the missing weight which Tariq was holding. All three were startled, none more than Scott as Tariq inadvertently dropped the weight. The original three inches of boy cock did lengthen. The shaft went pencil thin, Scott squawked, and the sheath slipped off. The cock returned to its normal length and all three boys blushed.

I held a hand out. “I'd better take the weight,” I said, “I'll get the blame if it's missing.” I stared at what was probably a smaller than normal for a fourteen-year-old prick. “You'd better try it with half a brick,” I said, “But don't worry, Scott, it'll grow of its own accord and if it's anything like his - ,” I pointed to his cousin. “ - you'll have nothing to worry about. If you are worried, talk to my son Francis, he's a doctor and he'll be here at Christmas.” Tariq picked up the weight. As he gave it to me I winked at him, out of sight of the other two. He knew I wasn't angry.

Scott did ask Francis and, with Perry present, pronounced he was in the normal range for his age. He was a bit of a late developer but all was well. A very relieved Scott, with Perry, were constant visitors after that and the pair now often stayed over. I removed 'Audacity...' from the bedroom and said to Tariq I hoped he and Perry weren't doing anything Scott didn't want to do. He shook his head and smiled.