Aladdin's Awakening by Joel

These were years both of sadness and gladness. Gradually the older generation departed. Pa, at eighty-three had a heart attack and died. There was a long obituary in the Times detailing many aspects of his Civil Service life I had had no inkling about. He had certainly deserved his knighthood! Both Professor and Mrs O'Brien passed away and the rather scattered family met up in Liverpool for the full Roman Catholic funeral for each. Mike was there for both, with his cousin Vince, and both were among the celebrants at the funeral Masses. There was a tribe of grandchildren and a few great-grandchildren present as well. Anne had never been able to keep up with the fecundity of her two elder sisters so there were generalised letters sent twice a year congratulating whomsoever had a birthday within the next six-month period with post-dated cheques!

Gramps and Grandma Marcham faded away and died within a year of each other which left Tony and me joint owners of Ulvescott. Mr Marcham's property fortune was immense but a great deal seemed to vanish as the government levied its swingeing inheritance tax. However, even with the tax, there would be no fears about the upkeep of Ulvescott with Sayed in residence, with Uncle Lester's money and now Tony's own increased wealth from his father. Then Uncle Edward and Auntie Della followed soon after. The news that Lady Thomson was also the celebrated writer, Della Arnold, caused quite a sensation as two of her last books had been condemned as salacious by some puritanical churchman. I thought, privately, and stated publicly to Francis, as we were staying at the villa when I read the volumes, that all that did was put up the sales and increase the number of sixteen-year-old boys of a heterosexual persuasion who could accumulate even more images for their nightly fantasies. All I got from Francis was the usual “Dad!”.

We also heard that Beef and Tex had died in 1982. The message was rather garbled but it all happened within a month or so of each other. Francis said it was some new virus which seemed to be attacking gay men especially. He said he had wondered about Uncle Lester March at the time as pneumonia at that time of the year and in Florida seemed an odd thing to get. Then Chico the Porto Rican boy died, another innocent victim of the dread disease. It became even more serious for our family when in 1985 we heard that both Fabien and Buck were very ill. Fabien died first and a very distraught pair of Jody and Peter with Francis flew over to Montreal for the funeral. Stephen wanted to go as well but he was booked for a major role and couldn't just pull out. On his return Francis said the illness was rife within the gay community. Buck and Fabien had been faithful to each other except for a period of six months when they had gone separate ways after what Buck said was a meaningless spat. Both had taken a promiscuous path until realising their love for each other was still very strong and they had got together again. But, the damage had been done. Either, or both, had been infected in that short time. Buck was in a hospital when Fabien was buried. Buck died two months later. It was also around then when Tony said Rock the Cock had died. None other than Rock Hudson.

Francis had long talks with Jody and Peter and they were adamant they had never been with anyone else. Their love had blossomed between them while they were still teenagers and other than being with friends for simple mutual pleasures during those years it was not until that night after the wedding they had fully consummated their love for each other. Since then they'd had no sexual relations with anyone else. 'Look, but not touch' was their motto. They knew of a couple of friends who were unwell and all the boys in the company had been for testing. Jody and Peter were negative. They said they would remain that way. It was the same with Ibrahim, Brad and Rory. Each had only had sex within the group. We were worried about Francis. He and Tony were lovers and Tony had spent that time in the States. Tony had talked to me about his adventures when he was in Hollywood. He'd had plenty of lovers. That worried him as well. The group of young men around Uncle Lester were highly sexed as men in their late teens and early twenties are, and would suck and fuck two or three times a day with whoever wanted, and he wanted, too. Luckily, Tony was negative when tested, he must have left in time. With great relief Francis said he was negative as well. At some time in the late 80's Tony tried to contact one man in particular, one he'd had particular affection for, the Cody of that cryptic note. A letter came back from his sister saying Cody had died the previous year and that the family would pray for Tony's evil, filthy, degenerate soul as they did for that of their poor, led astray, pure-in-heart brother! Tony said, more than once, as the roll-call increased, 'there but for the Grace.....'.

After taking his School Certificate examinations at the end of the Fifth Year Tariq decided he would stay at school in Cambridge and not go to the boarding school in Scotland. Whether it was home comforts, or apprehension about fitting in with new faces, we didn't know, but he stayed and I think Perry was relieved as well. In 1982 Tariq and Perry celebrated their eighteenth birthdays. Just before that they had the end of term celebrations to commemorate the ending of their school careers. The pair had been to a big party for all their Sixth Form plus assorted girls from the neighbouring schools and elsewhere. Both Tariq and Perry lost their virginity the usual way that night. From a confessional session with Ibrahim and the entry in his diary it transpired that Tariq had fucked three different girls during the course of the festivities. Perry wasn't so lucky. He did have three fucks. All with the same girl and became the father of a baby daughter. The girl maintained it was his, saying she was a virgin before that evening and she hadn't been on the pill, although Perry said she'd told him she was. She had to be believed and she wanted to have the baby and, no, she didn't want to marry Perry. However, when the child was born she didn't want it and one of Perry's older sisters adopted her. Both Tariq and Perry had places at Cambridge colleges but that contretemps upset Perry and he took the next year out and went walk-about in Australia. The girl had lost her place at Homerton and in the end went to a college in London.

Tariq was very upset not only for Perry but also for himself. Not so much upset by the furtive fucks but by their consequences. Perry's ended in a pregnancy, his in a couple of visits to the special treatment clinic as one, or more, of his partners had passed on a nasty case of gonorrhoea. Those couple of visits really hurt his self-esteem and I found him weeping in his bedroom on several occasions. It was a touch and go matter whether he would leave home for a place in college like all the others. We promised Ibrahim that if he couldn't cope we would have him stay at home. He coped and made a couple of very good friends on his stair at Magdalene where he was studying Mathematics. I hadn't realised but Ibrahim had read Maths at Oxford at Magdalen, without the `e' there, so there was some friendly rivalry between father and son.

We saw quite a bit of James and his family during holiday times. The twins were still a tandem pair and Iyad was a superb older brother. Because of the loquacity of the twins he'd picked up English very quickly. In any case he was bright and was determined to read Law at University when it was time. James's influence no doubt. The twins seemed to be more interested in art and crafts, both at the age of ten had won some national newspaper competition for a poster and had as the prize one of the new-fangled computers. This became their pride and joy and 'programming' became a great hobby.

Stephen, Jody and Peter made great strides, as it were, in the ballet world. As they were now in their thirties they had to think of what to do when dancing days were over. The three began by forming a partnership choreographing for shows and for television as a sideline. Lisa, having given up dancing to concentrate on looking after the two children, was a useful adjunct as she could train the dancers in the designed routines. Jody with his consummate flair was the driving force. They still lived at the flat and even though Ma was now very elderly she was baby-sitter and child-minder in chief. In fact, the free-holders wanted to buy in the lease which had another fifteen or so years to run, but with James's expertise and an injection of cash from Tony the lease was actually extended. Both Andrew and Peter, the two sons, were quite accomplished dancers themselves already and followed each other on scholarships to the Royal Ballet School at the end of the 80's.

One realises at some point that the years seem to roll by faster as one gets older. I had celebrated my sixtieth birthday on September the thirtieth 1989 and looking back was amazed how time had rushed by. My sons were settled. Francis, now forty-one, was happy in his chosen career. He did have rather a pleasant life, interrupted by patients as he said! He lived with Tony as his partner for life but still had time for Ibrahim and, especially, his great buddy, Brad. There was real affection between all of them and with Tony often away on lecture tours or teaching, Francis shuttled back and forth to and from the villa visiting us and Ulvescott, Ibrahim's home, very frequently. Brad remained resolutely at the villa. He had never gone back to the States and although his parents flew to see him at least once a year he was never tempted to return. We at last met up with my other cousin, Sam and his wife Juanita, who came and stayed a couple of times when 'doing Europe'. Sam was too busy making money on Wall Street for extended stays but their son Truscott, with his wife Estelle, almost made the villa their second home. As they were childless and Brad wasn't married, that branch of the line of Hamiltons and Fontanes would die out.

James, at forty, was a very successful solicitor. Emrys had virtually retired and Rhys was the senior partner. Richard, Rhys's son, was another mainstay of the practice and rumour had it that Alun's grandson, now fifteen, had indicated he wanted to study Law at some time. It was interesting that the family's interest in Law flitted back and forth down the generations. Not always father to son. It was also interesting that only two girls had been produced on the family tree for at least four generations and that one of them, Julia, had chosen to study Law and was now a prominent barrister on the London Circuit with her husband Roger, a QC and Deputy Recorder.

Stephen, our golden, adopted, much-loved son, was still at the height of his career. The rave notices whenever he appeared in whatever role, in England or on the continent, were continuous and impressive. I marvelled at his stamina but as he said, so many times, he had been taught to pace himself and never overreach what he could do. His imperturbable attitude and his consummate skill were his hallmarks and were prized by the company. Jody, his brother in all but name, was also in great demand, now more and more in character roles. When he appeared on stage the audience knew immediately by the attention paid even by his fellow dancers that he was a superb artist. He held audiences by a single gesture or by a small turn, then by a leap which seemed to defy gravity. I loved to see Jody and we made many journeys to London, staying overnight at the flat with Ma and her motley crew, to witness performances, magical and out of this world. Peter, his partner and our son-in-law as it were, was another who had made his name. He had become an assistant ballet master, shuttling between the House and the ballet school where he taught the advanced classes. He and Lisa were also much in demand for their teaching skills as she more and more pursued her career in choreography for shows and TV.

Khaled still ploughed his lonely furrow. He was now one of the senior staff at the finance house making fabulous amounts for clients and earning what seemed like stupendous bonuses. He said he didn't need the allowances made by his family and they just accumulated in accounts in banks in places like Zurich, Frankfurt and the Cayman Islands. We often sat together in the evenings and discussed the events of the day. I think he was interested in the tales of academic rivalry and the back-biting which went on. He certainly had some entertaining tales to tell about some of his quite eccentric, very rich clients. All in all, he seemed content with his life and in a quiet way enjoyed fairly simple pleasures, books, the theatre and reasonably good company at home. I knew that he and Rory had been lovers for a short time before Rory found his soul-mate. Then, in June 1990 Lucius brought his nephew, Troy, on one of his frequent visits. The following weekend Khaled asked if Troy could stay over as they were going to the theatre and supper afterwards. We agreed, of course, and Troy stayed. Not just for that night, but he became a permanent member of the family. Troy was an optician and had his own business in the neighbouring town of Royston. He had a house there where he had lived chastely, as he said, until he set eyes on Khaled. He moved in while they contemplated where they might find somewhere to live. Later in that first week I'd prepared breakfast for us all before we made our separate ways to whatever work we were doing. Khaled was giggling over a letter he had just received. Before he gave it to Troy to read he passed it to me. It was from James. Although James often telephoned he seemed more often to like to put his messages in writing.

At long last! You should have had your eyes tested ages ago. I guess he's the lad I remember when I was in the Sixth Form. You must have known him then, but of course, you were in the upper echelons of the First XV and not having to deal with mundane matters such as us mere mortals in the Seconds, or in purgatory through some wrongly attributed form of misbehaviour. If I'm not mistaken he was known as Horsey Palfrey then. I remember he was fourteen or fifteen at the time and I had to coach the little b's in the Junior XV after school as a penance for something or other I'm certain I'd been so falsely accused of. Saw him in the showers more than once and he certainly lived up to the name even then. My word! The Arab stallion and the English thoroughbred! Oh!! Wow!!! Seriously, though, Diane and I send the heartiest congrats and want to see the pair of you here when you can make it - if you have the strength! The trio send love and regards. You can explain all to them and Iyad, especially! They think it's great - another Uncle to buy them presents!!

Poor Troy, he did blush a bit and said he knew James very well. That tall, rather unkempt lad had been a favourite of the younger lads toiling in the scrum. I heard two tales about James I and Khaled didn't know. One, where the notoriously tight-wad James had wheedled quite a sum out of one of the Sports staff and had treated the whole of the Junior XV to burgers and coke from that, and his own pocket, after a really tough game they had won and he'd had to attend and, secondly, where he and the combined might of the Senior Second XV, all large, hairy and stupid, according to Troy, laughing at the thought of it, had tried to get the Second Master's Mini up onto the gymnasium roof, emulating a feat renowned in Cambridge circles where a Mini had appeared on a college roof one morning.

Unfortunately, although they had manhandled the car onto the path at the side of the gym they had forgotten they would need a crane, or at least a block and tackle, and had left it with a note saying the pixies had moved it from its proper parking place. As the path at the side of the gym was at least six feet above ground level the Second Master was not pleased and nor were the First XV, blamed and commanded to get the car off its perch.

Then Safar, our dear, most beloved Safar. He blossomed with the years, with his happy marriage to a most wonderful wife and the nurturing of his son, young James. He had remained in what might have been considered an academic backwater, content to tutor and supervise as a supernumerary member of the Music faculty. But, he was happy as he was doing what he really wanted to do. He was extraordinarily musical, something which some of his colleagues did not fully appreciate as he was very modest. His students adored him and his classes in medieval instruments were quite noteworthy. He did not need his stipend because of the allowances which came regularly from his wealthy family and so spent quite a sum setting up a flourishing workshop with an accomplished craftsman and two apprentices in one of the buildings at Ulvescott making, for the ever-hungry market, period instruments. Charlotte still worked at the University library and both played in the University orchestra.

James's pair, Jack, or Jak as he now spelled it, and Saf, were sixteen in 1989 and, as identical twins, still spoke, thought and acted identically. Diane had suggested, when they were quite young, that perhaps they might dress differently and bought them unmatched clothing but they had rebelled and demanded that everything should be the same for both. Every holiday, they and Iyad, came to stay for varying periods, probably turfed out to give James and Diane respite from their constant duophonic chatter. Iyad bore it stoically and was the very image of his father, both in appearance and in his personality. A perfect foil for the effervescent pair. Iyad at eighteen had elected to read Law too and was a student at Manchester, but still appeared on our doorstep during vacations and any occasion he could manage.

Over the years I had become the twin's confidante. Grandpa would always listen, or at least give the semblance of listening. I learned things from Junior School onward which they would never have told their father or, most definitely, their mother. We always had to make a pilgrimage to Ulvescott on every possible occasion. They revelled in the place and were always in Piers' room even though they let Iyad share the bed with them as they did often at home although they and Iyad had separate rooms. I didn't know so much about Iyad, he tended to chat to his father, but the pair were always most forthcoming with me. Jointly, severally and inconceivably individually, the pair had lost their virginity, with two girls from the village outside Chester where they lived, one summer's night when they were fifteen. They were not lacking in equipment because at even that age, having seen the articles flapping as they scampered to the bathroom on more than one occasion, they were, in Grunty's terms, well-blessed in the Thomson way.

I had learned of this loss as a week after the experience they came to stay and we had made our usual trip to Ulvescott. Iyad was coming on later as he was going fell-walking with a friend from school for a week. The morning after we arrived the twins were in rather a state. They seemed as if they had been startled by something and were also, at the same time, contrite. They followed me after breakfast into the garden.

“Grandpa,” said Jak, he was the usual one to start a conversation and he sounded worried, “We have to tell you something.....” “.....because we think we've done something very wrong,” continued the other half, Saf. “It's about girls,” went on Saf, “And we weren't careful...” “...and we're both worried because we've both been told we did wrong,” completed Jak.

They then told me the whole story, at least Jak did, with few interjections from Saf, who nodded encouragement to him as the tale unfolded. He told of the dance, or disco he called it, in the Village Hall and the cider which some of the older boys plied them with. They had gone off towards the end of the evening with the two girls they had been dancing with as the girls complained they were hot and needed some air. In the shade of the little wood behind the Village Hall the two boys had lost their virginity, urged on by the girls telling them they were on the pill and not to worry. Two fucks each later, two very satisfied girls, and two more than satisfied boys, went back and discoed away the rest of the evening.

Now, in the quietness and stillness of Ulvescott, there had been an admonition and a realisation that things could go wrong. I knew, and they knew, that Piers was still watching, caring for the family. My grandsons bore that reminder of the family, our birthmark. I asked if they had used condoms. They both shook their heads. The girls had said don't worry, the pill is safe. I said quietly that they should never take that as a truth. I told them about Tariq and Perry without naming names. They nodded, they had heard the story somewhere. I said in that case there had been unhappy consequences for both boys. A pregnancy and a disease. These days there is more than those diseases curable by a jab or two. They nodded. They had heard of AIDS.

I sat with my rather upset grandsons. I said they would have to wait to see if there were consequences. I counselled them carefully to always take care. I told them then of what did happen. All those years ago, a boy didn't take care in the very bed they slept in. By marrying their grandmother after that, the next year their father was conceived. If I had worn a condom they would not be here. I, as they did, felt humbled. However, I said whenever opportunity came their way, unless they were in a loving partnership, it was their duty to take care. They nodded after looking a bit startled at the word 'opportunity'. I said until they heard there were no consequences they had better keep their fingers crossed, and even better, their legs crossed or tie a knot in it. “Gramps!” was the duetted reply, with a giggle. They felt happier having talked it through. I asked if they had any condoms. They shook their heads. On our return to Cambridge I bought them each two packs. I said I would talk to Dad. They nodded and smiled.

But that wasn't all. There were further revelations as well that same morning. Of course, it was 'that book'! They had both read their father's copy of 'Audacity'. Was it all true? Did boys really do all those things? I asked what they had done. Now that the other had been confessed and talked through there was no hesitation. It was Saf's turn. Both had discovered within days of each other when they were just over thirteen and a half that they were producing sperm. I knew that as they had made no attempt at hiding the stains on their sheets when they stayed during the summer holiday before their fourteenth birthday.

In fact, they didn't know but James had told me at the time, with his usual grin, that he had a pair of little lesser-spotted Newarks nesting in the back bedroom and their flutterings and chirpings were more than evident twice nightly and probably three times on Saturdays and Sundays. A couple of years earlier he'd said he was sure there was a small bald-headed Newark dropping his bird-seed regularly. Now, he said, it had developed much more plumage around his baldness and was certainly a greater-spotted Newark and the three, when sharing the nest, were very messy eaters.

But, even at sixteen they hadn't advanced any further than being a helping hand for each other, and had been instructed by their room-mate and mentor, Iyad, so I found. I asked if they understood what the boys in the book were doing. They nodded and said it seemed clear from all those descriptions in the extracts ln the appendix of the book. Did boys do all such things often? I said as far as I knew boys had always experimented with each other. With close friends usually. They knew from listening that boys at school wanked themselves and they'd got hints that some did it to others as they did as a pair and with Iyad. They said as they were always together they had never felt the urge to experiment with others at school, anyway you might get called 'pouf' or 'wanker'.

I got the impression they were looked on anyway as a bit strange being identical twins and rather aloof from the crowd. They said they didn't really have any close friends. As they were tall and well-built they were always in the scrum as flankers in the rugger teams. This was a sport to be played as you had to, it was compulsory. But even then there was no-one in the team or in their class they really knew well. Living in the village they bused into school each day and there was no one else of their age group at the same school. Anyway, they were much more interested in computers. Not just playing games on them but writing programs and finding out how they worked. But, anything further? They knew which lavs to keep away from in the city and had the usual scare stories about being caught looking at a waiting policeman, - but, what about in private? I said that was a matter between friends, or brothers, or cousins. Golden rules, never impose and never harm. Two, tall, hefty youngsters, in tee-shirts and shorts on that lovely summer's day, hung on every word, smiled and looked at each other. They had each other.

In 1991 Tony's book, 'Paul's Odyssey' was published. Some critics were somewhat muted in their praise. However, a few, probably not worrying too much that their own schoolboy experiences and practices might be revealed, praised it greatly. I found it to be written with love and affection for all those who deserved it and an acerbity without malice for those who did not. It sold extremely well and its almost five hundred pages must have been read and reread by countless thousands of teenage boys as well as their fathers. Tony said he was overwhelmed with the response. The number of letters, for example, which came from rather scared and frightened lads, many not sure of their sexuality and asking for further advice, was quite surprising. But there were many more saying how rewarding the book had been, it cleared up doubts and fears and helped many who had experimented like lots of boys in the book and who probably still felt a bit guilty. There were no threats of actions for libel. I knew Tom, Matt, Nobbo and Cleggy had read the book and revelled in the loving descriptions of the exploits of Bobby, Philip, Michael and John. I, as Peter loomed large, not quite so large in one respect as Philip, but still substantial! Anne said she now realised why I was so boastful and, if that was her brother's description as Peter's friend Val, I had little to boast about.

I know others at school with us read it too. Tony had a number of letters and I had one in particular from Henry Gale, now the successful owner of a string of supermarkets around the county and a notable City councillor in Kerslake, saying how grateful he had been on that morning when I had turned up unexpectedly. He said Tony's book had crystallised all his thoughts and feelings about his years at the school. He said the Henry Gale of the arrogant Sergeant Major wasn't the Henry Gale inside. Tony's description of the two 'mes' - printed from the description of me as I had told him about my own feelings - Henry said was the exact description of himself as a teenager. He said he had told his own sons to read it now they were grown up with their own boys and to read carefully about 'Walter Glendenning'.

When Saf and Jak came to stay after the book had been published and, obviously, had been read avidly by them, they were now eighteen, six feet three, broad-chested, slim-hipped and more than a little hairy with it all, which was very obvious as we sat in the Cambridge garden in the sun. There was no secrecy between them and Grandpa now. They were ready to go to Sheffield University as they were going to study Computing in earnest and the course had been recommended to them. I heard of their plans. I had known from a 'phone call from Saf a couple of months after their night of ecstasy that all had been OK over the two girls, no pregnancies and no infections. I also knew from what they told me on subsequent visits that the supply of condoms had been used wisely and they knew where to get them discreetly in Chester. They were worldly wise. But, now they had spotted Grandpa in Uncle Tony's book. Was it all true? I said surely the printed word can't lie! They laughed. They said they recognised the descriptions of Ulvescott and giggled about the rosette. Was it true about the dog? Why ask, I said. I knew they were working up to something. On that hot day we went up to my study. I got out four diaries. They sat and read, lips moved, fingers counted.

“We did it there, too, the next time we went. We waited. We haven't told you before, but we know he was there watching over us. He and Miles. We made a pact that night we could never break. Pops said it happens in each generation and between good, true friends.” Jak smiled. “Pops said you'd show us these diaries one day and where we had to look. Now you have. It's there isn't it?” He pointed to that fateful encrypted page at the end of the third diary.

“Thanks, Dad, for listening to them. They're an odd pair and I think if they hadn't have had Iyad around they would have been odder. They are so identical it scares me at times.” He grinned. “They've even done a Grunty over measuring. Nothing secretive. A very neat chart and they made Iyad join in. Not unwillingly I guess. He was sixteen when they started but they'd overtook him by fifteen and a half. They're Thomsons alright as we well know. And that's not all they've measured. Never told you this but.....”

“Wait until I get my hands on Frankie and as for Grunty!” He burst out laughing. “Oh, my God!” He said again. “That pair. They've done exactly the same. I found the measuring cylinder and the beaker in the garage one day a couple of years ago. I left them there but noticed they got moved around. Then they left their piece of paper in the box and they'd got poor old Iyad involved in that too. His average was 4.2 but theirs were identical over the ten, 6.1. Same as Frankie I remembered. They beat me by a smidgen.....” He picked up the article. “....But not the celebrated JT. Oh my God! 6.3! Dad!”

Stephen's pair were a delight. They loved living in that spacious flat with the constant stream of visitors. They had museums and music on the doorstep as it were and when they both passed their auditions for the Royal Ballet School they couldn't have wished for more. Andrew was thirteen in the February of 1989 and was already being marked out as a fine young dancer. Peter, at ten, had been accepted to go to the school early and was as I remembered Stephen at that age. The pair were truly dedicated and relished coming to Cambridge as they not only shared a bedroom, as they did when at home, but could do class properly with the barre as Peter was determined he wasn't going to be left behind having just completed his first term. He was quite a dominant character and was renowned for speaking his mind or blurting out truths or half-heard statements - much like his Uncle James.

“Peter, just keep to yourself what you and all your little pals do. You'll find out in all good time what it's like to be growing up. You know. You've been told. You just have to wait until it hits you - and it will. Now, we all know about boys and what they do. I do and so does Grandpa. Remember we were boys, too.” Peter looked at me again. I nodded again. “So, just ask questions and don't spread tales, OK?”

I counted young James, Safar's son as a surrogate grandson. He lived with his parents in the flat at the top of Tony and Francis's house. He had the sweetest nature, just like his father. He was tough too, and came in for some hard times at Junior School over having a foreign name and because he was quiet. But, slow to anger, and swift to counter any hurt. He was the champion of the under dog and was for ever bringing home other small boys who had suffered at the hands of larger aggressors who had been seen off by this seemingly, small mild boy. Brad had been his idol and he was heart-broken when he departed to the villa. Tris, who hadn't married but lived also in the house with his girl friend had time for him and Tris and Safar were also great friends. For his eighth birthday his Grandfather had given young James a flute just like his father's and he soon became an accomplished player. At eleven he had passed easily into the school where his Dad and Uncles had been and loved coming into college to my room for a chat and a bit of tuition in French but, mainly, I thought, to pass on any news or gossip. He would even sit through supervisions with such an intense look on his face that no student ever took offence at his presence. A couple of my boaties took him under their wing having heard of one contretemps with a larger lad and he coxed one of the college boats in the Bumps at the age of ten all togged up in college scarf, sweatshirt and cap with great skill - much more than the rowers who caught crabs galore and lost dismally. He immediately joined the Junior rowing squad as soon as he went into the First Year of the school and became the mascot for the seniors. Having heard him coxing a Senior Eight more than once I knew he had a real inner strength. And, he was certainly not a dim boatie!

Time passes quickly when dealing with all the vicissitudes of students, of publishers needing manuscripts translated or reviewed, of family life, of general living in a busy community. Khaled and Troy were fixtures. They couldn't decide on a suitable house. We never worried. Both were delightful company and we all had similar interests which kept them and us busy around the city attending concerts, plays, recitals, revues and so on which are the hallmark of a lively university town like Cambridge. Troy liked cooking so with Benjy as his mentor plied all sorts of guests with succulent meals. In fact, our house was a magnet for family and friends so we had a constant flow. This was especially so at Christmas and Easter, not forgetting the summer if we weren't decamping to Rappalo, Rome, or Tony and Francis's villa near Grasse.

Ma at 87 was still the same. She had aged but was as upright as ever. One look from her and young Peter kept silent. She and the boys, however, adored each other and, since Pa's death she had concentrated all her efforts on keeping a well-regulated household for busy people with odd schedules. She was busy elsewhere as well. She had made friends with a couple of other elderly ladies who lived alone in the enormous flats. Tea and gossip we said. It's keeps the world going round, she said. Her other joy was the close proximity to the Royal Albert Hall. Most weeks she was there a couple of times or more for concerts, recitals, ballet, you name it. All the attendants and the ticket clerks knew her. She always managed to get tickets near the exit nearest the flat. This was even for gala evenings when she'd wheedled a couple of extra for Anne and me or for inhabitants of the flat.

She did get her evenings mixed once. She sailed past the usual door attendants, not bothering to show her ticket, wondering why they looked a little puzzled. On settling in her accustomed seat she was surprised that the Halle orchestra was apparently going to perform in a small roped ring in the auditorium rather than on the platform where small dinner tables were laid out. As she contemplated the scene two very well-built young men with squashed noses took the seats next to her. “Bit like Tiger,” she said, when recounting the story, “But worse.” Apparently, she got chatting to the lads and found, of course, she'd mistaken the date. The Halle orchestra was to perform the next evening. This was a charity boxing show, not really very well attended as the promoter had just been sent to prison for fraud. The lads told her to sit tight and were most amused when one of the attendants came up to ask if Lady Thomson was OK. They told the chap they were her minders.

She said she had a riotous evening, including buying the two boxers bottles of mineral water while she had a large gin and tonic in the interval. They described what was going on and invited her to their boxing gym in Bow when they found she wrote books and afterwards saw her to the ground floor entrance to the flats. She said she gave both of them a goodnight kiss! She did visit the gym on a couple of occasions and said she'd had a most appreciative letter back addressed to the publishers, which Kanga had passed on, when she sent a copy of her next book “Bow Bells Ring Twice” to the pair as she hadn't let on about her pen name.

I'd read the book before hearing the tale and had wondered where she had got her inside information about that vital piece of equipment for boxers colloquially known as a 'Manchester Guardian'. I knew it couldn't be from Stephen and the other dancers, their dance-belts wouldn't have stopped a low punch and I don't think she'd seen Chris Prosser's cricket box which he passed down to Johnny. I made sure I borrowed that hard little cup, often still warm, to tuck into my jockstrap and wear in those hateful cricket matches when I had to go in to bat. Luckily never at the same time as Johnny. And where she got the idea of the plastic insert with the phials of sulphuric acid in it which shattered with said low punch beggared belief. One instinctively crossed one's legs and looked away from the page as one read the description of the screams which filled the hall, and the account of the rolling shrieking victim as his vitals were burnt away, which were all there in gory detail. Needless to say, the book was almost immediately televised thanks to the Clarke-Smollett production team and the script writing of Dr Antony Marcham.

So Ma was coming. Because the house was going to be full we'd put the usual single bed for her in Anne's study. I was in the kitchen when the car arrived. Ma had given up travelling by train, she hired cars and this time it would have Lisa and the two lads, plus luggage. Stephen, Jody and Peter were performing until the matinee on Christmas Eve. Young Peter came into the kitchen first. Of course, we would be celebrating his fourteenth birthday on Christmas Day.

“Hello, Grandpa,” he said with his usual smile. He came round the table to me and I gave him a quick hug. Our usual greeting. “Got lots to tell you! I'm the Sergeant this year, you know that already. Too big to be a mouse like Dad was. Mum's got the tickets for you. Yeah, and my voice is breaking and I've getting an Adam's Apple now. And Andy's got the part as one of the Devils instead of being the boy with the trumpet, much better for him.” He snickered. “And I'm wanking every day now. Properly!” He turned as his elder brother entered the room, mouth open ready to say something. “Andy dared me to tell you and I have! Fifty pence, Andy!”

“She's with Gran and Nicolai helping Ma with the luggage and all the presents,” said Peter, stepping between us and not allowing his brother to answer. “But I've got to tell you, Gramps, Andrew's very good. That's why they chose him to be a Devil.” There was pride in his voice. The teasing brother was a loving brother as well. “Uncle Jody says so and he's Drosselmeyer and Dad's the Harlequin. Madame says keep it in the family, eh?”

All was revealed. Lisa came in followed by the stateliest young man I'd seen for ages. I didn't really believe in reincarnation. I'd been told once I was probably a reincarnation of a pharaoh, but that was said, I think jokingly. But young Peter was so like his long dead Great-Uncle Flea and now, this young man was the absolute image of the recently deceased Rudolf Nureyev. He had the same floppy black locks, the high Slavic cheekbones, the full red lips and those eyes. He stood with a dancer's pose. Straight back, his head up, one leg slightly in front of the other and then he smiled. My God, if I had been about fifty years younger that boy would have been pursued...... My nightly wank fantasies would have been enhanced a thousandfold..... My trusty towel would have required almost daily laundering..... I snapped back to the real world. Lisa was speaking.

That smile again. He looked about seventeen or so. Same age and height as Andrew. But I wondered what boy could not have succumbed to that look. One of the students, pouring out his soul about his sexuality, having been steered in my direction by a tutor less use to dealing with such problems, had told me in great detail about his ability, correct or not, to spot like-minded young men. Unfortunately, his 'gaydar', as he termed it, must have been switched off that particular time as the young man he approached and bought a couple of pints for in the students' bar, resisted his advances and promptly set three of his equally nasty pals onto the lad and he ended up in the Cam behind Clare sans trousers. I didn't know if my gaydar worked, but Nicolai would have been worth a dunking if I had been wrong! From the look he gave Andrew as he turned to him I didn't think I was wrong.

He did speak French. Quite competently. I found he, like so many Russian dancers came from a small village, but his great-grandmother had been a dancer in the Ballets Russe way back and this tradition of dancing had been kept up in each generation. His mother had unfortunately had to retire early but his skills had been nurtured and he had been sent to England as an exchange student. The boys sat fascinated as we spoke together. He spoke a rather old-fashioned French and his accent was heavy but he smiled as he realised he had someone to talk to.

Of course, I had forgotten Ma who came in looking for the teapot. She always surprised me. She spoke to him not in her native French but in Russian. Ma had decided years previously to learn a further language, 'to keep the mind active' as she put it, and Pa had bought her a set of language tapes. Being Pa he turned up with Swahili or Punjabi or something similar. She opted for Russian when she took them back and because one of the old ladies in the flats she had befriended was of White Russian stock she had an on the spot coach. Trust Ma. However we decided Russian or French was banned. English and only English. I saw Peter smirk. Later that afternoon when I was in the kitchen alone with him I warned him if I heard one unseemly word from Nicolai I knew who to blame and Ma would be told. As Ma was to be obeyed he just giggled and looked at me with downcast eyes. I wondered what words had already been learned.

Between us we explained to Nicolai who was who and who would be coming for the festivities. I hadn't heard about the big gathering on Christmas Eve and was still in the dark about all the bodies appearing for lunch on Christmas Day. I knew I had six tickets, in the choir, for the Nine Lessons and Carols on Christmas Eve but wasn't sure who would be going..... Oh my!

“Where's Jamie?” he asked. Young James was a regular visitor if he knew food was likely to be available. He had the usual appetite of the developing male adolescent. Fourteen last May he was now well into his growth spurt and was already taller than Safar. The small, quiet child was developing into a tall, quiet young man. How tall he would be was anybody's guess but there were genes for tallness in Charlotte's family. Her brother Martin was six foot six and had joined the police force as soon as he left school. James was filling out, too. He was getting broad shoulders from his rowing. I often walked down with him to the boathouse on the Cam when he was going to practice. His great pal, short and squat but tough like his father, was another young James, Grunty's youngest son, know as Jimbo by his brothers. The pair were always together in the boathouse exercising or competing or rowing together. James liked single sculling and he was a real dab hand taking off, with Jimbo in hot pursuit, down river and up against the current. They always finished together. We'd already got young James's Christmas present. A newly designed rower's leotard with his school badge sown on.

Young James still came into college regularly to have a chat and tuition and was now very fluent. He'd spent the whole summer at the villa and according to Johnny McIver had helped Christophe, the seventeen-year-old gardener's boy, all the time when not sunning himself. He now had a fluent command of colloquialisms most of which I'd never heard or had only read in French novels and could only guess at as slang changes so quickly in any language and I warned him about using a few of them, especially in his oral examination. One afternoon we'd been discussing things generally and he'd used 'mec' and 'type' when describing people which was alright, but then I asked him if a particularly difficult construction was clear. “Mais oui,” il a dit, “C'est clair comme dans le cul d'un negre!' The grin told me all!

“He's got a music lesson this afternoon but they're all coming to supper tonight,” announced Anne. Young James, as well, as being an excellent flautist was already a more than competent pianist. Another thing he liked doing was playing duets with Gramps. He said I didn't moan at him as much as his Dad if he got things wrong. Safar, I knew, was a stickler for correctness. Jamie, again, was a good example of how two separate generations could have a close rapport. I was his confidante and advisor in many things, just like the others.

Peter asked that evening at suppertime if we could go to Ulvescott to see Grandpa Lachs and to show Nicolai the house and could Jamie, sitting next to him and not to be left out, come too 'cause Grandpa Sayed would like him to be there as well? As I had to see Sayed anyway about signing another document about extending the lease and facilities on one of the workshops I said it would be a good idea, the sooner the better, and no doubt their Grandfather could put up with him for an hour or so. Peter gave me the usual old-fashioned look, Andrew and Jamie grinned. I asked Khaled if he wanted to come but he said he and Troy were going over in the New Year with Safar, Charlie and James anyway so it would be an extra visit for James. He could collect some presents to take over in the morning. Anne said it would be just right. We would be out of the way and she and Ma could have a quiet time together and they could get things ready for Christmas.

So, we spent the evening explaining to Nicolai how Ulvescott was inherited by Tony and me and that Jamie's Grandfather Sayed lived there as well as Grandpa Lachs. Peter rushed up to my study to fetch the framed family tree and showed that he and Andrew had been added although their Dad had only been adopted by me, Gramps, but his Dad, Grandpa Lachs, was on the tree as well because Gramps' Uncle Edward had married........... Whether poor Nicolai got the gist of the ramifications I didn't know and the boys only mentioned the author at the top as writing a 'funny' book. I knew Andrew had read 'Audacity' from what Stephen had told me but I didn't think Peter had, yet. And I wasn't aware that either had seen a copy of 'Paul's Odyssey'. Should I give them each a copy for Christmas? And what about young James?

Lisa conducted class with the boys next morning at eight o'clock. There were no moans about having their breakfast just after seven. She said she was going to be an assistant ballet mistress at the junior school in September so she liked having the practice with the lads. I sat on the bed and set the tape-deck off with the music and watched as the four went through that well-learned routine. Andrew and Nicolai were a matched pair. They were both about five foot nine. Taller than the previous generation of male ballet dancers. Both had superb physiques. Andrew wore a loose top but Nicolai took his off as they started and I could see his muscles ripple as he stretched and bent. Young Peter was still acquiring that frame and form of the others but even now he had a firmness and strength which I could see would be most impressive when he matured fully. There was a quiet determination in all they did.

When they finished Lisa went off immediately to Anne's and my room to shower in our en suite and the three boys stripped off their dance clothes before going to the main bathroom for a shower. I said I would take the sweaty clothing down and put it all in the washer and it would be ready for them when we returned.. They were so used to being seen in the nude they just took everything off as I sat there. Andrew and Peter had been seen by me many times. Peter's newly lengthening cock was very evident even from the previous summer when I'd last seen him displaying his wares. At that age, just four or five months' development was most noticeable and snail was now a small slug, and tendrils above were now a small, spreading sideways bush. Andrew was now at the end, or almost, of his developmental cycle. Like his brother he had inherited the gold blond hair of his father and of Lisa. Like his father he had inherited the generous flaccid length I so remembered from my times with Lachs and which, no doubt, young Peter would attain in due course.

As Nicolai turned to hand me his bundle of clothes I noted he was also well-endowed. Like the boys he wasn't circumcised. Perhaps that pendulous rosette made it look bigger and it was certainly dark-hued as it drooped over a nice-sized sack. His pubic hair and the abundant hair on his thighs and shins was much straighter than the small blond coils evident on the backs of Andrew's thighs. What was most striking was the colour. It was a deep, full black, set off in complete contrast with the whiteness of his legs, as he had no tan at all. Peter and Andrew had taken the opportunity of getting an all-over tan when they joined us for a fortnight at Rapallo last summer. They had discovered that a flat roof was not overlooked and lay there soaking up the sun in between diving into the pool or experimenting with Julio and Domenico's torture machines and so had emulated that bronzed pint-sized Adonis their father had become at Prato. Odd, they had both chosen white when I took them to buy Italian-style bathing suits!

There was much giggling as they rushed along to the bathroom with Peter leading the way and saying he was going to shower first as they would use up all the water. There was even more noise as Peter must have annoyed them and they were dealing with him. Nicolai's low-pitched voice was much in evidence. “You.. Peter... You need slap.....” Jamie came along with his overnight bag and a bag of Christmas presents and immediately went into the bedroom where the boys were dressing. God, four, boys, the row they made all chattering together. I did hear Jamie say to Nicolai, who had wandered out of the bathroom last, towelling his hair, “Tu a un bon chinois, Nick!” Oh, 'tu' already and 'Nick'! But chinois? I heard Nicolai say “Zwhat?”. No words, silence, pointing I expect. I knew. 'Chinois', oh yes, the politically incorrect slitty-eyed Chinaman, or cock! Young James was cornered by me before we set out. I said, two rules, no French, unless Nicolai didn't really understand, as we were trying to immerse him in English, he nodded, and no slang especially, I changed to French, even if Christophe or he 'se polir le chinois journellement'. My, didn't he blush! Then he grinned. “Tout les temps!” Safar and he had had the talk! And he knew Gramps knew.

Peter sat next to me as we drove to Ulvescott with the other three in the back. The old Volvo had been chosen for its roominess and James sat between the older pair. Peter told me all about what he had done this last term. How they were rehearsing hard for the 'Nutcracker'. Even the lesser parts had to be rehearsed so meticulously as I knew from his father's descriptions when he was at the school. “It's hard work, Gramps,” he said, “But I couldn't imagine doing anything else. Dr Fitch says I mustn't do too much though now for a bit because I've begun to grow. It's funny growing up. You wonder sometimes who you are. Did you, Gramps?”

“Yeah, Roly said that to Andy. He said he nearly gave up then because he couldn't stand the discipline. But he says he's glad he's stuck it now. He's got interviews in Malmo next term. He's tall. I want to stay here so I hope I won't be too tall. Dad says I'll probably be taller than him and Dr Fitch says his charts say I'll be about five feet nine. So that'll be alright.”

“Gramps!” There had been silence from Peter for a time. “Gramps, it wasn't Andrew who told me to tell you that yesterday. Dad told me to tell you. I told him first before I told Andrew. Gramps, it was Daz said I should be able to so he was there when I tried it and it happened. I like Daz, he's my best friend. I think Nicolai will be Andy's best friend.” He paused. “Like Uncle Jody and Uncle Peter.”

He smiled and shook his head. “And that other time when I said things,” he said equally quietly, “I was only teasing Andy but he got really upset. It took a long time to make friends again. I'm more careful now what I say. Would you tell him I got all upset, too? I said it but I think he's still a bit hurt and that's a long time ago. I told Dad and he said I should tell you as you would know what to say. I still tease him like last night but I try not to hurt him.”

He nodded and there was a bit more silence. “Gramps. You won't tell Ma but he does know some rude things in English. He couldn't speak any English when he came and some of the older ones told him all sorts of things. They hoped he would say them but Andy told him not to.” He giggled. “He did teach us some Russian rude things, though. It's not wrong though, is it Gramps 'cause all boys say rude things? James said something rude this morning. It didn't sound rude though. We laughed.”

We had reached the outskirts of the village and came up to the gates. The cottage next door had been bought and made into a lodge. I suppose long ago it had been the lodge as it had once had a door opening into the drive which had been bricked up. With the needs for a guard this had been unbricked and the four bodyguards - all trusted ex-soldiers from Sayed's days as the commanding officer - lived there. One was keeping watch and as we approached the gates swung open. Electrically operated now. No expense spared! I drove slowly along the drive as the boys pointed out the lovely old building as we approached. As it was cold I drove the car straight into the garage. The boys, very gallantly took all their clobber and mine and we went in at the side entrance. Lachs was there waiting for us. His grandsons hugged him, standing tall against him. James got his own hug and then Nicolai was introduced. As he was shaking hands with Lachlan Ibrahim came through, beaming.

Mr and Mrs Evans were the pair who had been installed as chef and housekeeper years before when the Americans first came to the Manor and had stayed on at Sayed's insistence when he took on the lease. Mr Evans produced very good food - enjoyed by all, including Sayed's Arab assistants and guards. But, Mrs Evans baked the most wonderful buns and cakes and I could see the boys tongues almost hanging out in anticipation. There wasn't much left after the gannets descended on the plates at half past eleven and lunch would be at one!

Andrew and Nicolai were to be in Piers' room with the other pair in the Horsebox, still adorned with its rosettes and certificates from seventy or more years ago. I thought that if Andrew and Nicolai were to be more than just good friends then this stay would be the turning-point. I left them showing and describing all the photos in Piers' room and especially the small portrait of Agnes Leferreur which now hung there as well, next to a copy of Mike's drawing of me. I went into the African room and dumped my things there and returned to Piers' room just as Nicolai was being told about my picture.

We left it at that as the boys wanted to show Nicolai the rest of the house. He was intrigued by the Horsebox and thought my room was 'ver....ry good!'. When we went into the drawing room Sayed was there to greet us. He had been dictating something to Walid who smiled, bowed and melted away. I let the boys introduce Nicolai and I could see he was impressed by this small, hawk-nosed, dark-eyed man who had that undefinable bearing. I bent down towards him and gave him our usual hug, then it was young James's turn. His grandfather gave him a hug that told us all of the great affection he felt for him.

After lunch I had to go and see the man running the furniture-making business as it was his lease to be extended and also we had planning permission to extend his workshop as well. It was noticeable how thriving the workshops were. There were plenty of cars in the small car park with people buying, I assumed, mainly presents for Christmas. The furniture man said he was always surprised at how good the trade was. I said I supposed we had only let to craftsmen and there was a knock-on effect. He smiled and said he had liked the place as soon as he took on the first old barn and everyone seemed so happy to be working here. Only two workshops had closed, only for a short time before others took them on, and they had gone as their workmanship wasn't of a high enough quality in comparison.

As I was talking to him I saw the boys looking at a display at the silversmiths. He and his assistant produced some lovely pieces and I'd bought things in the past for Anne and Ma. I wondered if there was anything the boys really wanted and when I wandered over they were inspecting some rings and also some fine silver chains. I said nothing but it gave me an idea. The husband and wife who ran the pottery workshop next door also seemed to be doing a roaring trade. I poked my nose into the musical instrument shop and the assistant pointed to a harpsichord - he smiled, he knew I would be in sometime. All in all, wherever we went, all seemed very flourishing. I was very thankful that Bruce had made that simple statement about how all the wood could be used. From that small start the enterprise had extended beyond belief. Wood, silver, pottery, paintings, musical instruments, a farm shop, my cousin Daniel's wine outlet and so on.

That evening after a first-class dinner young Jamie and I entertained the gathering. I played two pieces, then accompanied James on his flute and we finished with one of the Spanish Dances as a duet. Sayed's face was a picture as he watched his grandson following in his father's footsteps. That small shy Safar in Rome had blossomed and now his son was showing equal, if not greater, talent. The boys went off to bed about ten. I said breakfast at eight and class at nine. Not a murmur. They knew the discipline. Walid quietly kept the glasses topped up for the five of us as we sat and chatted. I said I was seriously considering retiring when I was sixty-five next year. Sayed just laughed and said he didn't know when I found time to work anyway with the menagerie of all the sons and their offspring and all the rest of the hangers-on. I did say it kept me young. Lachs said he had been overwhelmed by the way Andrew had developed and he was looking forward to seeing the performance at Covent Garden. I looked at Ibrahim and winked. He would be there with his own opera glasses! I knew he missed Francis and he said he was flying out to spend February at the villa. Yes, Tony was going to the States for a lecture tour so Francis would need a bit more company! And Brad would like some, too.

I said how good young James now was with his French. Sayed laughed and said he'd heard from Safar that the gardener's boy was coming over for a month at Easter so I would, no doubt, have Christophe added to the menagerie. I said the gardener's boy was actually the son of the local doctor so that was how Francis knew him. The lad had wanted something to do during the school holidays so it was an ideal thing for him as he wanted to study forestry or horticulture when he left school. I didn't say he taught colloquial French very well or polished his Chinaman regularly.

We all retired to bed about midnight. Three very old friends, tired, aging a bit but still glad to be alive, taking the stairs carefully. We'd all had rather a lot to drink. Ibrahim and Walid bowed and left us to go to their own quarters. I slept well. Relaxed. Content. Startled awake by my little alarm clock at seven. I washed and shaved and was down waiting for the boys to come for their breakfast. All four came in together. The three already in their dance clothes. They were all smiling and happy and from the looks that Andrew and Nicolai gave each other my guess would be that a friendship was being forged.

Exactly on nine class started. As the eldest, Nicolai was in charge. I had found a volume of excerpts from the ballets some years previously and had brought it with me. Young James put his flute together and for an hour we accompanied those three perfectionists. At the end there were a group of watchers, all mesmerised by the fluidity and inherent beauty not only of the movements, but of the boys themselves. If Nicolai and Andrew were to develop their friendship in the way it seemed to be going, as well as that partnership and matching artistry, then they had great careers together as a team before them. But, at some time in the near future Nicolai would have to return to Russia as his scholarship was for one year only. How would their friendship survive such a separation?

I could see young Peter following in his father's footsteps, too, and those of his well-loved namesake Uncle Peter, Jody's partner. I remembered so well that occasion when Safar had beckoned me to see Jody and Peter sleeping so contentedly after consummating that love for each other which still was as intense now eighteen years after. I know they looked on young Peter and Andrew as the sons they would never have. The boys loved and respected that pair, the ebullient Jody and the astute Peter. Young Peter was also a star in the making.

The boys spent the rest of the morning exploring the village and I took them with Lachs to the village pub for lunch. Bangers and mash, and lager for the eldest, as we did have a meal. As we walked back to the Manor I winked at Peter who took the hint and kept in front with Nicolai and let James chat away with Lachs even further on. Andrew realised, I think, that I wanted to talk to him privately and slowed down.

“Gramps,” he said softly, “He did hurt me. Actually, it was my pride which he hurt. I hated him for that but I realised that was wrong of me. I knew I might say something nasty so I kept my distance. I've forgiven him. Anyway my life wouldn't be the same without him behind me and commenting on everything I do. Dad knows. I talked to him. He was a bit annoyed about what Pete said about us in the lavs. It's true, but it's nothing. We all see each other every day and we're all inquisitive.” He giggled. “Now it's his turn. He'd better watch out because he's said enough things about Carlos and Roly before we moved to the senior school! Don't worry Gramps, I'll tell him.”

We resumed walking slowly. “I know that, Gramps. We laid together for a long time last night trying to say things to each other. It's difficult not having enough language.” He stopped again and turned and looked up at me, two tears welled from his eyes. “We lay and just held each other and we both knew. Gramps, two boys held each other and kissed and we did nothing but it happened to both of us. We didn't do anything but it happened and we were so happy.” He wiped his eyes and a smile happened. “Gramps, we fell asleep and we woke up this morning still with our arms round each other and we were stuck together. We could have stayed like that but we knew we had to get up. Gramps, we kissed again and he stroked my cheek.”

I indicated the chair next to me and he perched on the edge. He shook his head. “I not lie to you. Zhat boy he know I not lie. I love Andrew. I am clean. With boys we do,” He made wanking movements, “...many times. With two boys in Russia we...” He was groping for words, “That boy Roly say 'suck my cock', he say I should say. Those boys we suck cock.” He shook his head. “No more. We say 'drochit', these boys say 'vank', is it, and we suck, zhat is all. The boy he knows.” He nodded upwards. “Pravda!”

They went off and I went to look for the other pair. I still had my second task to complete. I found them chatting up Mrs Evans each with a buttered bun in their paws. She smiled and said boys were always hungry. Didn't I know it! I just wondered how many tons of food had passed from the kitchen into the stomachs of all the lads who had passed through, or were still in residence, in our household. They followed me out and I said to young James that I'd seen him looking at a rather nice pottery fruit dish the day before and I expect he wanted to give it to his Mum for a Christmas present. I gave him a ten pound note and off he went. He'd also sensed I wanted to talk to Peter.

“I talked to Andrew on the way back this afternoon,” I said and he nodded, “You've been forgiven for a long time. He said he had been hurt and he hated you for a time for hurting his pride.” Poor Peter, he looked so sad then. “It's alright now. He said you still tease him.” I smiled at him. “You two remind me so much of your Grandfather and his brother. Your Great-Uncle Andrew always teased Lachlan. They loved each other just like you and your Andrew. The last time I saw them together Flea was pulling your Grandfather's leg about something. You tease your brother but always make it a loving tease.” He had cheered up and smiled. “Tonight when you go to bed go in and tell Andrew. James can talk to Nicolai.” I chuckled. “There's room for four in that bed. I should know!” Peter looked at me with open eyes. “Don't forget, Gramps was a boy many, many years ago. That bed could tell a few stories. I might write it up one day. 'Memoirs of a Beautiful Bed'.” He grinned back. “But don't stay too long. Andrew and Nicolai need time together and you've got to get your beauty sleep ready for class in the morning.”

Mr Evans did us proud that evening for dinner. I think on Sayed's instructions his cordon blue, double blue ribbon haute cuisine expertise was fully called on. We had assembled in the drawing room at half past six and there was a young waiter there who poured drinks and passed round plates of very tempting tidbits. I saw Ibrahim casting eyes at the very tempting young man who I found was a student at the local catering college gaining experience as well as some well-earned cash. Then at seven dinner was served in the dining room. The table looked fabulous, even more than when Mrs Crossley had brought out the family silver and crystal. I noticed the boys kept glancing to see if the right knife, fork or spoon had been picked up but they soon relaxed. They had been warned there were seven courses so don't pile the plates when served. A delicate onion soup with fresh, hot rolls, was followed by thin slices of roast pheasant on a rosti base with Cumberland sauce and petits pois. After that course followed course. We all sampled the 'grape juice' as it was euphemistically called and after a laden dessert bowl of fruit was passed round the table by one of the two white-jacketed young waiters and picked over I think even young Peter had had almost enough food to last him until breakfast. Nicolai had looked at the array of fruit. “I have a banana, please. I like them. I eat them at school always. Zhat Roly he name me `banana boy'.” There was a suppressed giggle from Peter and I saw a quick glance between him and Andrew who was sitting on the other side of the table from him. Peter looked at me and wrinkled his nose. I guessed why Roly called Nicolai `banana boy'.

Nine fairly comatose replete figures repaired to the drawing-room for coffee. Four youngsters went to bed by half past nine. We others followed shortly, after Lachs and the others had heard a bit about our day. Lachs and I were the last to leave but I told him a bit more. He had recognised that his grandson was in love. I assured him I thought it would be alright, at least until the time to separate. I said I would discuss it all with Stephen and he smiled. He was so proud of Stephen's accomplishments and I heard that he was now being tipped for a major post in the dance world. I slept soundly again and heard in my head that all was well.

I was up with the lark as usual. Mrs Evans had prepared breakfast giving her husband a rest. I complimented her on the wonderful dinner and heard there had been two sous-chefs as well as the two waiters, all lads from the college and they loved working at the Manor. I knew Sayed entertained two or three times a month as he had to keep in touch with his family and the various factions and I had been a well-fed onlooker many times. Mrs Evans confided some came looking daggers at each other but the tranquillity of the house and the way it was run soon helped to calm things down. I nodded. I had always experienced that feeling whenever I was in the house. Only when Jacko was being Jackoff in those teenage years had I disturbed the equilibrium, but it soon returned once I, or that other `me', had been sorted out. I felt this visit had helped two more young men to some sort of balance in their lives.

Nicolai held his hand up again. “We tell Gramps all. You know you say boy say tell all. I not lie.” He looked at me then bent and gave me a peck as well. “I tell you... yesterday.... Those two things we did. One.” He made an expansive gesture across his stomach and chest. The meaning was clear. A flood. “Then. He say share. We share. I have him in me.” He pointed to his mouth. “He has me there and then we share. He say spunk, we say malofya, it is, what?, it is us, from inside for making. We share. We make!”

I saw Peter and young James buy identical silver chains and Andrew and Nicolai bought matching silver rings as well as chains like the other two. I wandered off to see what I could find for Jem and Sam who would there on Christmas Day as usual, sweating and swearing in the kitchen. Then, I mentally went through the list and bought something silver for everyone I could think of and found something very suitable for someone. The boys had wandered off to a small clothing store and in their absence I also bought four silver bracelets and, as I went to the farm shop for a supply of their fine olives, the assistant engraved the names.

Nicolai was true to his word. He had spent all his money on his friends. He had bought the ring and chain for Andrew and in return Andrew had bought his. He showed me what he had bought Peter and James. Matching sets of Parker pens and pencils. He had even bought Roly and Carlo, and about five others, tee-shirts with various captions on them for them to wear in the dance studio. He opened his hand. One fifty pence piece. All he had left. The widow's mite. “I buy you some more.” He pointed at the bag with the olives in their boxes. He came back beaming. The shopkeeper had realised that was all he had and had given him more than the fifty pence could possibly buy. “I am happy,” he said giving me the package.

On our return to Cambridge we found Iyad had turned up at last having been staying with his walking friend he'd had for years. He was going to spend Christmas with us and his father and then go back to Chester for the New Year. He had finished his Law degree a couple of years previously and had just done a further year getting a Master's degree. He'd started work in the family firm in Chester specialising in tax. Don't ask why but that's what turned him on! He said the twins were driving everyone insane. They were in the third year of some four year degree in Computing and had gone to different firms for their intercalated year to get experience. This was the first time they had ever really been separated. One had remained in Sheffield, the other was in Leeds. In their spare time they were designing some system for instant communication and both firms had seen the potential although they were supposed to be working on other projects. This meant problems of copyright and Iyad said he was keeping well out of it. He said the pair were just as insatiable as ever and seemed to have a different bird on their arms each week according to their reports home. We'd better watch out - they'd made invasion noises for the New Year!

Everyone burst out laughing, including Ma who put her arm round Nicolai's shoulder and whispered something rapidly in his ear. He laughed out loud. “I make good English joke. You get slap and tickle when you grow.” He sneered at Peter. “You too little boy now for slap and tickle.” He smiled at him. “But you grow. Good body some day. Now you get tickle always and slap sometime. I see tonight!”

The next day was Nicolai's birthday. Andrew told me he was giving Nicolai the silver chain, so after breakfast, before the boys went to the room to do class, Nicolai opened his presents. He knew about the chain but then he opened the small box from Anne and me. The silversmith made a whole range of small pendants, miniature musical instruments, crucifixes, Stars of David, and so on for hanging on the chains. I had spotted the perfect pendant. Nicolai held up his present, beaming all over his face. It was a beautifully sculpted silver miniature banana. On the card I had written 'To our lovely Banana Boy, Love, Gran and Gramps'. During class he wore the chain with its pendant and the tee-shirt the boys had bought him with the large inscription on the front 'Hot Property. Handle with Care!'.

During the morning the boys came with me to show Nicolai a bit of Cambridge. He gazed out of the window of my room and shook his head. “Ver...ry beautiful.” Andrew explained to him we would be going into King's College Chapel that afternoon for the Nine Lessons and Carols and that was why the big BBC vans were outside. We looked quickly around the town and the swarming throngs doing their last minute Christmas Eve shopping. That afternoon Ma and I walked with the four boys back to King's. Nicolai sat next to me and I felt his whole body stiffen expectantly when the first ethereal notes of 'Once in Royal David's City' were heard coming from the throat of a single small choirboy who until that moment didn't know which of the boys would be chosen to open the service. At the end, as the organ thundered out the concluding voluntary, he held my hand. “Thank you,” he whispered.

Christmas Day was its usual happy, busy occasion. We had a real houseful as Jody and Peter had arrived late Christmas Eve and were there to conduct class even on Christmas Day. We opened presents after that. Young Peter's fourteenth birthday. The child once, really now on the cusp of manhood. He had special presents for his birthday as well as the customary Christmas presents. For his birthday Anne had chosen a rather grown-up leather travelling set. A suitcase, an overnight bag and the essential toiletries bag. There were a few catcalls as he opened that to display its contents which included a nifty safety razor.

There was a special light shining from those happy eyes of Andrew and Nicolai as they opened the small boxes with the silver rings. They smiled at each other as they held them but we noticed they did not put them on. There was a gasp from each of the boys as they opened the boxes from Anne and me. Silver bracelets were put on and admired. There were useful presents as well. Everyone seemed to get items of clothing. Young James was sent upstairs to put on his new rowing leotard and got wolf-whistled on his return. It was very tight fitting and one saw very clearly the lad of fourteen was developing fast, in all directions. Ma and Anne must have bought up most of the young men's department at Sayles as shirts, sweatshirts, pullovers, boxer shorts, bikini briefs and even briefer undies were held up and raved over.

I could just see Ma enquiring about fashions in men's underwear and buying tanga briefs in several different sizes as even Iyad had some as well. 'Death in Short Pants' would be a good title for her next novel! But then, all English boys know their mothers always buy their underwear and even after leaving home there was always the unwritten assumption that I needed to be kept decently clad underneath just in case of the ever possible accident and the hospital would be appalled if undies were unclean or in tatters. Nicolai was overwhelmed with all the things he was given. I whispered to him that he had given everything to his friends and all this was given to him with love. There were hefty squarish parcels for each of Andrew, Peter and young James. Presents from Ma. Copies signed by the author of 'Paul's Odyssey'. Ma had wrinkled her nose when she had finished reading the proof copy Kanga had given her. “Boys!” she said, “What do you expect!” Then she laughed. “And they don't think their mothers know! Huhn!” Oh, trusty towel, you couldn't have been the only thing!

Khaled and Troy were much in evidence and much in demand for sniffing. They had given all and sundry quantities of expensive soaps, aftershave, deodorants, powders and perfumes and the boys especially had anointed themselves liberally. I think it was Safar later who remarked, having sprayed himself copiously with his Aramis present, that the place smelt like a Turkish brothel. I saw Peter open his mouth and the look which his brother gave him which shut it again, so we never knew what acquaintance dear Uncle Safar had with such establishments.

Christmas lunch was a quietly riotous affair. Tariq turned up with Tris and his girlfriend. Tariq was now working with Khaled as an actuarial assistant on their insurance side. His pal Perry was coming later as he was having lunch with his parents next door but one. Perry had sorted himself out during his travels in Australia and had come back and taken a degree in Statistics and Computing and was now something called a systems analyst, also in Khaled's company. Their early joint sexual contretemps seemed to have been overcome, both had girlfriends in the company but one never enquired if they were going to settle down as they were now around thirty. Perry's daughter, now almost starting secondary school was very pretty but had never been told that Perry was her father. She looked on him as a very attentive uncle. Tris and the girlfriend, shacked up together now for some years, worked for a big bookstore in the town. Happy in each other's company with Kanga desperately asking them to join his firm as he was working flat out. 'Maybe sometime' was the usual reply.

Luscious Lucius had come in with Safar and Charlotte and they had brought with them a young man I hadn't seen before. He was introduced as Dominic but nothing more. Safar said to me at some point that he was a third year Science student from Jesus but he would tell me more later. He was a nice-looking lad, quite tall and seemed a bit shy. This didn't last long as he was plied with one of Khaled's lethal concoctions and a couple of glasses of the innocuous tasting fizz later he seemed much more relaxed and was chatting to the boys quite animatedly

The final arrivals were Grunty and Valerie with their three boys. Nathan was now, I think, twenty and following in father's footsteps, but at St Mary's Hospital in London. Michael at eighteen was in his first year at Queen Mary College in London reading Physics and the other young James, Jimbo, at fourteen, was in the same class as our young James. Oh, God! The three boys were just like father and uncle, short, squat, lop-sided grins and, with Nathan, the trademark broken nose of the seasoned rugger player. He had been snapped up by St Mary's who, invariably, seemed to win the London Colleges Cup: memories flooded of Nobbo and Cleggy and their acceptance there! They were soon gathered into the mass of young humanity. Michael and the new lad, Dominic, were chatting and I saw Jimbo and young James cross-legged on the floor by the table with plates and a glass each at the ready and self-satisfied grins on their faces.

No way could we seat the thirty or so in the dining room. Jem and Sam had recruited a couple of strays from their houses to help in the kitchen. They had decided on turkey, plus all the trimmings but served buffet style. Sit where you can but do not spill or wipe greasy fingers on the furniture was the stentorian order from Jem, well used to addressing noisy students milling around the Porter's Lodge.

The noise really only abated while mouths were beings stuffed. Even then I heard Nathan, perched on the arm of Nicolai's chair, expounding on the off-side rule in Rugby to an attentive but only partially comprehending listener. I whispered to Nathan he was one of our resident ballet stars and was Russian and was quite surprised when I heard the rest of the rather one-sided conversation. “Sorry mate, I rabbit on.” He looked at the obviously very fit and muscled young man. “You'd have made a bloody good fly-half. Anyway, I took the bird I had last year to see Manon at Covent Garden. Wow, that Darcy Bussell, could fancy her! Some of those boys! Very well-equipped! We're coming to see this lot. My favourite's Romeo and Juliet, but I like Nutcracker. I wished I'd seen their Dad when he was boy but I'll see them. You dancing?”

In a quieter corner I had a chat with Safar and Charlotte. I heard a bit more about Dominic. He'd been chucked out by his father for much the same reason as Jody all those years ago. In preparation for the lad's triumphal return home with his degree all bright and shining, father had decided to have his bedroom redecorated. Unfortunately for Dominic, father had noticed a loose slat in a bedroom cupboard and had hauled out the stash of gay magazines and a couple of books of gay stories. All had been burned immediately and against his mother's protestations, she knew, father had forbidden Dominic ever to return home. This was even though the mags and books were handed on mainly by his second eldest brother, working in Rome as a language tutor, but, unknown to his father, living with his Italian boyfriend. So Dominic was another of life's casualties. He'd come to Lucius's attention through one of the tenants and had been gathered, as it were, into the bosom of a more friendly family. Charlotte had been apprised of the situation and was acting as surrogate mum.

By this time Nathan's place had been taken by Dominic himself. A thought. As Nicolai wasn't required to return to the ballet school until term started he needed language tuition. Young James had volunteered as he and Nicolai had clicked as friends immediately. The quieter James against the more exuberant Peter but both great friends themselves.. But from the alert way Nicolai was attending to Dominic I thought some input from an older lad might be useful as well. I saw James come across and the three were spooning in Christmas pudding and brandy cream and chatting together. Perfect!

Having thus solved one of the problems of the Universe, which even Stephen Hawking might have difficulty in comprehending, I was feeling most happy and convivial. My only sad thoughts were that my own two sons were not present. Francis had 'phoned Christmas Eve saying he was enjoying the warmth and comfort of the sun at the villa in France, winding us up. Of course, he wouldn't leave Tony and the others but he promised to come back with Ibrahim after his visit in February. My pickle James had 'phoned this morning saying the twins were at loggerheads over some problem in programming and the sooner he off-loaded them on me at New Year the better. He said Diane sent her love and wanted to know if Yad had clean knickers. As Iyad had just unpacked a stack of varied underwear I said she'd better speak to him herself. To shouted greetings from the Newarks twittering in the background I passed the 'phone to Iyad. After a lengthy diatribe from the other end he just grinned and said “Mum!”. But, I had Khaled, Safar, Stephen and Jody with partners and, where applicable, their offspring. Then all the friends. We should be humble in our gratitude.

On Sunday we recouped our strength and saw the two lads off with Stephen, Lisa, Jody and Peter. They had rehearsals on Monday ready for the performance that evening. We would all be there. We were. The Balcony held the combined might of the Thomsons and their family and friends. Jody made a very haughty Drosselmeyer and our own Sergeant fought the mouse horde with great confidence. Stephen as the Harlequin had to take two separate bows. The Devils were so evenly matched it was hard to distinguish. Minor parts but excellently done. We went wild as usual.

Nicolai had sat next to Nathan and had been invited to attend the next rugger match. I grinned trying to imagine what Nick, as everyone seemed to call him now, or NickyRussianBoy as Peter said, would make of thirty sweating, heaving, running, young men, hell bent on clinging onto each other, sometimes with the ball, sometimes without. Perhaps Peter and Lisa should choreograph a rugger match for performance! The way Nathan appraised Nick as they sat there and afterwards I just wondered if the birds were any sort of camouflage. I knew his father had had that pact with Francis. He had enjoyed what Francis could offer and then had produced these three most sturdy young men. Human beings are so complex!

The idea about using Dominic, plus young James as dual language mentors for Nicolai worked well. On Monday morning we had walked down to the boathouse after Nick had done his solitary class with James watching and James had shown him the ergometers and they then sat side by side and exercised on them for half an hour. When we got back Dominic was chatting to Ma in the kitchen and the four talked about all and everything. There was little silence in the house. Nicolai heard and learned fast. As soon as Heffers opened I got a couple of books on teaching English as a foreign language for Dominic and he was really keen. He was also accepted as a friend and I got our Bursar to contact the Bursar at Jesus to make sure he wouldn't be in any hardship for this most important final term and a bit.

Young James moved in and slept in Nicolai's room, the excuse being he needed to be immersed in English. They slept together and I never enquired if and what they did together. But they became good friends. We heard during the week the Newarks would not be descending on us. They were rushing back to Sheffield to get on the 'main-frame' or something such. See you at Easter! So the week passed quickly and peaceably, for us all, then on New Year's Day in the Honours List came great news. Tim Parker was knighted 'for services to music' - 'a long overdue award' as more than one musical journalist remarked in articles praising his achievements.

The holidays came to an end and I think both young James and Dominic were sad to see Nicolai go back to school. He had come on so greatly in understanding as well as speaking in that short time. He didn't find reading too difficult. He had learned French from his mother as well as at school so had knowledge of the Roman alphabet. He marvelled we could get by with twenty-six letters when he had at least thirty-two in Cyrillic. I pointed out the French got by most of the time with twenty-five. It was only when they pinched words like 'le weekend' they needed the extra one. Nicolai was bright there was no doubt. I had noted he and Dominic were reading through young James's copy of 'Paul's Odyssey' together. I wondered if they guessed who was one character in the tale? Nicolai had a wonderful personality. He was outgoing and loving. I was the grandfather he hadn't known. Both his had died before he was born. I found his father drank too much vodka but loved his son. He had worked hard to get his son to the best ballet school in Russia. Anne was a substitute for his own grandmother who, he said, was quite frail. He had one much older sister, twelve or more years older, who was married and had moved away with her husband. He didn't know his cousins. So, the boys were like brothers he never had.

But both Nicolai and I knew there was a snag. Nicolai asked me if I had known before he came to stay with us that he was 'goluboy' - a golden boy, a blue boy, a gay boy. I said I didn't know before and it didn't matter because I could see how close he and Andrew had become and all I was concerned about was their happiness. He said he was so happy now as it was difficult in Russia. He had had to hide how he felt. It was only with Andrew that he had begun to feel free. I explained how difficult it had been and still was in England. People were now a bit more accepting and Parliament was going to vote on the lowering of the age of consent to eighteen fairly soon. He said Dominic had explained that, too. He liked Dominic, he grinned, “He is 'goluboy'”. Then his face closed. He shook his head. “His father. My father knows. He does not like but I am his son. He loves. But he says not to go back to village. Stay in big town.” I asked him not to do anything with Andrew while they were at school. It was Andrew's last two terms there and he must concentrate on doing even better. He nodded. “I tell Andrew no love. Not even...” He smiled, “Perhaps.....” he moved his wrist.

As Nick had to be back at school the day before James I took him with me and drove both down to the senior school at Baron's Court. We left Nicolai to greet Andrew by themselves behind closed doors and to open the parcel of matching sweaters with the card enclosed 'To our two most loved Golden Boys' while James met up again with Roly, Carlos and the others who had been in the performance. Carlos cornered me. “We are so pleased about Andrew and Nicolai. Nicolai's a great guy, we'll be sorry to see him go. Still, he can always come back I suppose.” I said I hoped he could and when he and the other lads had time to come and experience Cambridge. He said he had high hopes of a place with the Birmingham Royal and so did Roly.

A contingent went to the Easter performance. It was, as usual, a great occasion. Peter and two other lads had a trio spot fairly early in the first half as three young suitors which was very elegantly done and got a great round of applause. The last dance in the first half was Nicolai.. He had been trained well and the way he leapt in that complicated movement from Spartacus was breathtaking. He had strength and beauty and the audience knew it by the ovation he got. Andrew had two spots. A pas de deux from Swan Lake with a very accomplished young lady and his own solo spot in the second half, a series of very athletic dances from a modern ballet, done in no more than what looked like a pair of very short white shorts, which really showed off his ability and flair as well as his fine-toned body. I was reminded of his mentor and idol, Peter DeLisle, who had coached him so well and the audience liked what they saw.

The arrangements now were that the performance was on the last day of term so we waited while the three cleaned themselves up after having been in the final extravaganza. We talked to various other Mums, Dads and Grandparents, all of whom were most struck with Nicolai's talent. The boys had already packed and Lisa and Stephen were leaving on a later train as there was to be a bit of a celebration for them given by the staff. As we left the building the porter called out, “Two letters for you, Mr Petrov.” As Nicolai was carrying two bags and I had only the plastic carrier bag with their recently removed bits of clothing ready for the wash I took the two letters and stuffed them into his jacket pocket. I noticed they both bore Russian stamps. No more hammers and sickles, I thought.

Plenty of chat on the way back on the train. Young James was so pleased he'd seen Nicolai do a proper dance at last, not just all those exercises. “Class!” said Peter, “You never learn, Boatie!” Before reprisals occurred I told the boys that Stephen had just announced he had been appointed to the prestigious post with the Royal Ballet for which I knew he had been recommended. We would be celebrating once it was in the newspapers. “And I've been offered a contract there too,” said Andrew quietly, “Wasn't going to tell you until we got home 'cause I wanted to 'phone and tell Ma as well.” Three other boys leapt onto him, rather to the consternation of fellow passengers. He was hugged and kissed and he blushed and I did note James gave Peter a hug as well.

There was a note from Khaled on the kitchen table when we arrived home. He and Troy would be out until late. Also, there had been a telephone call from France from Francis. Christophe would not be coming to stay for Easter. He'd been emulating a Tour de France hero of his, going at breakneck speed down a hill and, luckily, hadn't broken his neck, just his left arm. Young James looked so disappointed. I nearly said it was a good job it was his left arm, but a) I didn't know if he was right-handed, and b) by seventeen most boys are ambidextrous anyway.

The boys were well into their third or fourth bun as we sat in the kitchen with Peter magnanimously saying that young James might as well stay and he could have a bunk bed in their room, when Nicolai must have remembered the letters. He fetched his jacket and found them. He looked a bit puzzled, I don't think he recognised the handwriting. He tore open the first. There was a single piece of paper, typewritten in Cyrillic. He looked startled then ripped open the second. Another single sheet. Typewritten in Cyrillic as before. He flung the letters on the table, rushed out of the room and we heard him pound up the stairs and a door slammed. I looked at Andrew. He went off immediately upstairs. I picked up the first letter and its envelope. Funny, no 'return sender' on the back. I looked at the sheet of paper. I recognised the characters of his name 'Nicolai Filipovich Petrov'. No more. If only Ma were here! I scanned the other one. Some sentences looked the same but there were extra words and some quite different sentences. I looked at the two stunned boys and a silent Anne. Something had happened.

Gradually, with huge sobs now punctuating the story, we found that these were threatening letters. If he returned, the rotten freak he was would be denounced and he would end up in jail and boys know what happens in jail. He would probably die quite slowly. The second he said was more explicit, he would lose his balls, then he would be given to men in prison who had not seen a woman for years. The meaning was clear. But who had sent them? He said his father had borrowed money for his training but he didn't think it was that. It was probably someone or some people who thought he might be better than other boys. There were criminals and others trying to make money. He said he thought he had been given the scholarship by a sympathetic director who knew there were dangers.

I left the boys and went downstairs. I said it sounded worrying but I had a plan. The others were not to disturb the pair and I would tell them more later. I looked at Anne and she nodded. She guessed who was to be consulted if things were rough. I went to my study and dialled the Porter's Lodge. I asked if the duty porter knew whether Gary Ellis was in his room. If he was I would be in college very soon as I needed some help. Five minutes later Gary 'phoned from the Porter's Lodge. I explained I needed two letters translated from Russian. He said if it was urgent he would cycle round immediately. I said please, it was really rather urgent.

Gary was in his final year. He'd taken French subsid to his main study of Russian and some other Slavonic language. He was one who had already received one of what were known as the 'brown envelopes'. This was a discreet way of saying he had been approached to see if he would join the British Intelligence Service on leaving college. Gary had said yes. How did I know? My lips are sealed. I had signed the Official Secrets Act many years before.

I said this wasn't a test but it was probably his first case. He smiled. He looked at the envelopes first. He also noted no return to sender address which was very strange. He said the Roman characters were written by an educated person. He said often a professional writer might be paid to write addresses to countries not using the Cyrillic alphabet. “They've even got the address down to the postcode for Baron's Court. I know, I've got an Auntie living close.”

“Someone hates Nicolai Filipovich very much. I wouldn't think these are idle threats, either, I heard of plenty of nasty happenings when out there....” He started scribbling. As he translated he mouthed the Russian. “I'd better put what it says colloquially, hadn't I? There's lots of euphemisms like in English.” He pointed at one sentence. That says they know he masturbates, 'lysogo v kulake gonyat', he pets his monkey as they say in the States is nearest though it's a bit funnier in Russian, plays with the bald man, I suppose. Then it says they know he plays the skin flute,” he giggled, “Mustn't laugh but it's almost poetic,” He grinned at me, “Like something else we've all read! Here it's 'igrat na kozzhanoi fleite', actually a leather flute.” He whistled. “They said once all this is known they'll put him in jail and he would be...,” He looked at me, “They use the term 'petuh', it's a slang term for a boy in prison, a chicken. And then it says he knows what will happen. To put it mildly, he'd be fucked to death, slowly.”

“This one starts the same but with variations. They know he likes other boys, he is a freak, 'uebitsche', he sniffs at their backsides, zhopa, and he wants the biggest.... Better put 'dick', I think that's the best for 'khuy', up his backside. Then it says he needn't worry that can be arranged, but first he would lose his balls, muda, and his backside would be...., I think 'pizda' is... ...you know... ...'cunt'. In prison there are many men without a woman for a long time and he would be a 'pedik'. It just means he'd be fucked. He would catch diseases and would die slowly. And that last sentence is a quote, I think, something like 'death is a sweet release'. I've read it in several forms, it appears in more than one story by the usual sorrowful Russian authors.”

I went back upstairs and dialled Lachs. As succinctly as possible I told him what had happened.. I read him the translation of the second letter. He said to get the letters photostatted and the originals would be picked up in the morning like any other document returns. He'd deal with it, he had a couple of favours to call in with a certain Embassy and he promised to do what he could. I slipped out and just got to the local supermarket before they closed and made two copies of each letter and the envelopes.

I said very slowly what I had done. I didn't say Lachs was involved just that I had made contact with someone who could most probably help. Andrew was about to say something. He must have known it was his grandfather I had contacted but he said nothing. It was past supper-time and I knew the other two would be raving with hunger unless fed soon. Not to worry. Anne had raided the freezer and there were pizzas all round. Even Nicolai ate hungrily but kept his eyes on me for reassurance.

In the morning Andrew came down first for breakfast just after I had given a package to the young motor-cycle courier who had arrived exactly at seven o'clock. He said all four had slept in the double bed with Nicolai held tight and safe. I told him then not to say who I had contacted as he had guessed. I said the letters were evil and whoever wrote them was most probably very dangerous.

Lachs 'phoned me while the boys were doing class. While we waited why didn't I bring the boys over to Ulvescott? At least, he said quietly, while things are being sorted certain persons unnamed would be safe. Anne agreed. The boys were delighted. Ulvescott again! We set off by half past ten and were there well before twelve. After lunch I sat with Lachs and the two elder ones while Peter and James went off to see what they could buy in the craft shops with the money slipped into their sweaty paws. Lachs said he had high hopes of success. He looked closely at the two now less-worried boys. He held Andrew's and Nicolai's hands and said he relied on them to make a great success of their lives. They promised.

We stayed until Saturday morning. I thought I heard a motor-cyclist arrive as I was getting up at seven o'clock. Walid tapped on my door a little later and gave me a small package with a smile. When I went downstairs Lachs was already in the breakfast room. Very tersely he said from the message he had received that the courier had brought him all was true. But, his contacts had put a stop to anything further. I said I'd received something very precious for Nicolai. He smiled. “For our grandsons, anything.”

We had to return. Anne had 'phoned the night before. The twins were arriving the next day would we be home? I said I didn't know, but let Khaled and Troy deal with them. Anne muttered something about their poor parents wanted a quiet weekend and Khaled, Troy and she had thought they would too, but now!! I 'phoned to give her the news about the new Nicolai. “Bring him home!” Nicolai had entered her heart as well.

Chaos reigned for the weekend. We arrived just before lunch-time. With superb timing, with the knowledge food was in the offing, the twins turned up within five minutes of us arriving home. They were in a rather dilapidated car and they were in high spirits as usual. Just the same as ever, duetting about everything. Nothing was said to them about the problem of the letters, they just accepted Nicolai as another member of this wide and varied family. They were busy. One more term with the firms and then their final year. They talked about computing, which the boys seemed to understand, but to me sounded like gibberish, RAM, ROM, MsDOS, and how their program was going to be the bees knees in allowing confidential communication. I did recognise prime numbers came into it somewhere.

Of course their Uncle Khaled came in for plenty of banter. They complained that Yad, as Iyad was universally known, tormented them and his only interest was in helping rich old ladies avoid paying tax. Uncle Kaled and Troy retaliated in the nicest possible way and took us all out to a meal that night. Khaled did point out that they were eating only because their dear 'brother' had saved a deal of tax on his last substantial bonus. They decided that Nicolai should sit between them so the poor lad looked as if he was at a tennis match, his head swivelling back and forth as one started and the other finished sentences.

On Sunday morning they sat on the bed and watched, in silence, as the three boys went through their routine. I watched as they appraised the two elder boys especially, darting glances between themselves. Anyway, everyone seemed to have a good time that day and the next. Khaled and Troy went off early Sunday morning saying they would be back late Monday night. I think the twins constant chat got to them a bit but the boys loved it. Easter Monday morning the twins sat and watched the boys again.

I realised something was going on because Tuesday morning I'd been in my study before going down to breakfast. On coming out I saw young James and Peter come out of the small spare room and one thumped on the door of Stephen's old room and the other rapped on the one opposite, Francis's old room. I thought perhaps they realised Andrew and Nicolai wanted a bit of privacy and the twins always slept soundly.

The other four soon turned up for breakfast and Saf was chatting to Nicolai and Jak to Andrew and the twins watched class again. As Peter could get the key of the boathouse they all went off a bit later for the boatie and the dancers to do arm and chest exercises on the ergometers. They all came back sweaty and happy, showered, using gallons of hot water and decided, after lunch to explore the new shopping centre. Anne and I had things to prepare, I for the exam board I was chairing once the exams started and Anne for a conference at the weekend.

Habit seemed to have set in. The twins were fascinated with the routines the lads had to do every day and I heard the music start up on the cassette recorder dead on nine the next morning. I then remembered that our recently acquired new cleaning lady had asked if she should make the bed in the spare room and Anne said it was the responsibility of the boys in there. I peeped in the room and it was just amazing how much clobber could be strewn around in a couple of days. So Peter and young James had decided to sleep away from the others. I shut the door. Then I remembered Mrs Chambers had also said she thought the lav next to the shower room might be blocked as it took several flushes to clear. Well, six lads with hearty appetites forced a goodly amount down their receptive gullets each day so it wasn't surprising that the results of the digestive processes should be substantial, too. But I thought I'd better check in case a plumber was needed.

I peered into the toilet bowl. Over the years I'd had plenty of experience in clearing various blockages and wasn't surprised to see a mass of toilet paper. I was about to give it all a shove with the toilet brush when I realised the paper was surrounding something or other which tended to float. No, not the usual toilet contents. I drew up the wodge with the toilet brush and realised there was a second mass below, which popped to the surface. Being more than a little inquisitive, as a memory from the dim past also surfaced, I found a plastic bag and manoeuvred the first package into it and gingerly poked at the sodden mass with the handle of the brush. Inside were two condoms. I noted two things. They were not ordinary ones. They were heavy duty. I'd read about ones called Trojans somewhere. Secondly, one had about twice as much creamy spunk in the tip as the other. Even more curious, I fished out the second bundle. The same. Two condoms, with one containing substantially more than the other. I smiled. That attentiveness. The looks. I put the two soggy parcels in the plastic bag, flushed the loo and took the bag down and put it in the dustbin.

I went back to my study. I looked out soon after the music stopped. Saf and Andrew came out first and went into Francis's old room where the twins were supposed to be sleeping together. A few moments later they emerged, laughing, with Andrew in the nude and a towel round his shoulders, ready for his shower, while, at the same moment, Nicolai, Jak and young Peter were coming out of the other bedroom where the dancers had been doing class. Both Peter and Nicolai were also nude and I also got a good idea then of why Nicolai had acquired the nickname of Banana Boy. His prick was semi-erect and bent quite considerably out to the left. They never noticed me as they went into the bathroom and I went back into my study and heard Jak and Saf chatting together going downstairs.

Two nights, two blocked loos. I guessed the twins, like their Dad and their Gramps were able to engage with both sexes. I wondered how much the 'birds' we heard so much about were figments of over-cautious imaginations? Now there seemed no doubt they had shared themselves with Andrew and Nicolai over the past two nights. The evidence of the paired condoms pointed to this. The knowledge of their own measuring, which their Dad had divulged, confirming that they followed the family pattern in output, was a particular clue. In any case I was so pleased that good sense had reigned in using adequate protection. I wondered who had insisted? And, for that matter who had a supply of that particular type? Those years ago I had purchased packs of what were coyly called 'Gossamer' for the pair. These were not they!

“Gramps,” said Jak - the one with the telltale tiny scar by his eyebrow - “Gramps, Dad said you've got to tell us all about Ulvescott some time.” “Not just about those diaries but other things and what's happened there.” continued Saf. “Then he said he'd tell us about him and Uncle Francis,” said Jak. “Please,” pleaded Saf., “and Uncle Tony's book!”

“Can we go over?” asked Jak. “We haven't seen Uncle Sayed and Uncle Lachs for ages,” went on Saf. “And Ibrahim's promised to see if they've got an old car we could have,” injected Jak. “'Cause ours is an old banger,” Saf explained unnecessarily. “We'll drive over in ours and you can take the crew in the Volvo,” Jak helpfully suggested. “That's getting old, too. Can't you get Cally to get a car on his company?” “If that didn't work I bet Yad could do a tax fiddle if you asked him,” concluded Saf.

Anything for a quiet life. Or would it be? As Anne was speaking at this conference I 'phoned Ulvescott and spoke to Sayed. He just laughed and said bring the lot. I then spoke to Lachs and said my son James had suggested the boys learned a bit of history. It was his turn to laugh. We'd pored over the diaries and he knew the contents well, he and his loved golden-haired brother. A long time ago for us but a memory as fresh as if it were yesterday. Then what seemed so few years ago, but thinking about it, it must have been at least 1965 when I had talked to the twins' father and uncle about love and affection and the story of diaries and happening so many years apart. Now, a fourth generation would know the contents of those early diaries. How would they react? Like all boys I guessed!

Lunch was ready when we arrived. There was a slight wait for the second car. It apparently needed a top up of oil every fifty-five miles which caused Lachs and Sayed great amusement. They recalled an old banger Lachs had when at the military academy and being caught for exceeding the thirty mile an hour limit. They pleaded with the policeman that the car couldn't go more than forty miles an hour so they must have been going downhill. Taking pity, the policeman had waved them on and then had to give the car a push to get it going. So much for the incline!

I thought that it was best to get the matter of the talk out of the way as quickly as possible. There was no way that young James and Peter were going to miss out as they guessed there was something afoot. So, as we finished lunch and Sayed and Lachs and the others left, I said we all should go up to Piers' room as I wanted to talk to all and discuss things. There was an air of quiet expectancy as we went up the stairs. I heard Andrew explaining to Nicolai he would hear interesting things and Peter said it was about their Grandads.

Over the next three hours or so I held their rapt attention. I said of my introduction to the house, the Wellbeloved Manor of 'Paul's Odyssey'. They all nodded, even Nicolai, recognising the detailed descriptions from the book. I told of the lad who had given his life with his friend in the Great War and who I was quite sure still maintained a benevolent control and oversight of happenings. All six nodded again. In some way all had experienced that subtle, and sometimes not so subtle, presence. I spoke of the many coincidences. Of the shared school with Grandad Lachs and the Honours Board. Of the relatives in France, the boy with the same birthmark. The birthmark I shared with Piers, with Francis and now the twins. I saw Nicolai look at the twins in turn. He nodded. He had seen the birthmark on them at very close quarters over the past two days I was sure. The finding of the manuscript and the discovery of those complex linkages between the Thomsons, the Crossleys, the Fontanes and the LeFerreurs. They all nodded, they had all studied that peculiar family tree on which all appeared, some with heavy lines, some with dotted lines and onto which Nicolai would be added at some time.

I said there was evidence, too, of bonds of friendship, of pacts of brotherly love, within the generations. They had all read what Tony had written. He had veiled that final act with the metaphor of sealing the bond. There were looks between the four older boys which confirmed my almost certain knowledge before. The two younger boys looked at each other and nodded. Discussion, perhaps, but not action.

I then said that across generations boys were always the same. Inquisitive, exploring, their minds and thinking growing with the years, just as their bodies did. There were smiles. The twins especially looking at each other and wrinkled their noses. I pointed at the five diaries. I said three were Piers', one was mine and the fifth had recently been sent to me by their Uncle Francis. I said I'd shown Jak and Saf four of the diaries before so they knew a bit. They would show them what they knew but they hadn't seen the fifth one and there were quite a few interesting pages in that one as well. I then said the other documents were example of boys' inquisitive natures. I would leave them for a while to read and to discuss.

“That Piers, I showed them,” said Jak, “He was as bad as Saf is now!” “Speak for yourself, brother dear,” said Saf, laughing, “And as for Gramps!” “And that's Dad and Uncle Francis?” said Jak with mock surprise, pointing at Grunty's piece of paper. “And what Uncle Francis did in his diary!” exclaimed Saf, “Nineteen times two weeks running!” “Huhnh,” grunted Jak, “Your record's twenty-four!”

Nicolai must have been following this rather strange exchange very closely. He pointed at Jak and Saf. “Zhose boys zhey have more of zhat.... spunk, zhey say, I see more zhan him.” He pointed at a rather aghast Andrew. “My Andrew is good. Most good. I am most good. But zhose boys...” He made some expansive Slavic gesture which could have only meant 'massive' and shook his head and we knew he was most impressed. I knew I had been after my inspection of the evidence. “But it is zhis family. Zhose marks.” He shook his head as if it was all too much to take in and believe all at once.

I opened the folder out of which I had taken the documents and passed him three photographs. One of two adults, in shorts, each holding a very young nude baby. The second, a close-up of the four sets of legs, the birthmarks now much clearer and discernible. The third a smiling father with his young son on his knee. He and the boy of about four both in shorts, both with the mark. Dodo, my cousin, and his son, Pierre Armand, now twenty. Nicolai stared and smiled and the photos were passed round and turned over to check the names written on the back. Peter, sitting next to young James, giggled and pointed at the infants. Nicolai obviously thought this was bad manners.

“You point and laugh,” he said, his English now so much more fluent, “Zhey are like the babies on the Holy Mother's knee....” He crossed himself, again in an expansive gesture. “...Zhey are not grown. Huhnh. When you are grown you must hope to be like them. Zhey are grown!” He held his hands up in another emphatic gesture, palms facing inwards a good seven and half inches apart. “Zhey are like zhis now. You grow, zhen you laugh!”

They explained to the others, or at least Saf did, about their loss of virginity and my warning and the gift. Jak finished the story by looking at Andrew and Nicolai. “....And we insisted because....,” He paused. Saf continued, “...We like both...” “...We do it with both,” concluded Jak. “But yours was special,” said Saf. “It wasn't just.....” said Jak, for the first time seeming hesitant. “....getting our rocks off!” said Saf slowly and smiled.

“Dad guessed,” said Jak,”He found a letter from a friend...” “....He takes us over to Manchester most weekends in his BMW,” explained Saf. “We met him in a club in Sheffield and he's got a pal who runs a bar....” said Jak. “...It's on the Ship Canal road.. We earn a bit of money as waiters...” went on Saf. “..The lads think it great the two of us. They don't know who they've ordered their drinks from....” said Jak with a laugh.

We left any more concerted discussion for that day. At least, I kept out of it. After dinner the twins sat with me and Nicolai in the drawing room, while Lachs talked with Andrew and Peter in the study and Sayed went off somewhere with young James. The sleeping arrangements were supposed to be that Andrew and Nick were in Piers' room with the twins in the Horsebox and the youngsters in the room next to me. I retired to bed about eleven after all the boys had gone up about ten o'clock. All seemed quiet and I slept soundly.

As usual, I was down for breakfast first soon after seven and was chatting to Mrs Evans when all six came in together. Plates were laden and the food disappeared at the usual fantastic rate. All seemed very happy and at nine o'clock class in the drawing room started accompanied by me and young James. The twins, Sayed, Lachs and Ibrahim watched. I saw Sayed look at the twins and then at Ibrahim. Without them noticing, he put his hands as if on a steering wheel and Ibrahim smiled and nodded.

At the end of class the three dancers went off to shower and change and Ibrahim had a quick word with the twins. Their faces were a picture. Ibrahim took them with young James and me to the large garage. Although Sayed was a very wealthy man the cars parked there were not ostentatious. When he travelled around he preferred anonymity and smaller nondescript cars other than the large Mercedes limousines which his associates at the Embassy and his string of relatives seemed to go in for. Ibrahim indicated a dark blue Vauxhall saloon.

“Good,” said Sayed, when there was a sufficient gap, “I hope you like it.” There was a vigorous nodding. “There is one small matter.” Silence. “I need a substantial payment for it.” The twins looked at each other and then stared at Sayed. “It's a gift, true, but, as soon as you graduate and before you do anything else I have a job for you. Then you will get a new car each to start with! Plus the cost of your time and effort!” The twins looked as if they might fall through the floor. “Khaled has said I need a computer system which is fully secure to deal with all my business. That's your first job in a year's time. Tariq and Iyad say they have every confidence you can do it and Ibrahim and Walid will tell you what we need. It's all in the family so to speak.”

“You don't have to wait until we graduate,” said Jak. “We've been working on such a system for our dissertations,” said Saf. “We could have it up and running before we start back at Sheffield in September,” said Jak. “We finish our jobs with the firms in a couple of weeks of this next term and could start then,” said Saf. “Could we?” asked Jak, “We'll have about four months.” “Which is eight months as we'll both be working on it,” said the ever practical Saf. “The equipment will cost a bit, though,” said Jak “And we have to write up our dissertations.” “Which could be on how the system works - no secrets, though,” said Saf with such a smile.

So that was arranged. In fact, the rest of the morning the boys spent on the 'phone arranging delivery of the most up-to-date state of the art equipment. Their bosses at the two firms would be suppliers so were quite happy if the boys disappeared sooner than later but they would like first call on any findings the twins liked to sell or lease. I got the impression the boys were whizz-kids, not just nerds! At least that was what Andrew said in awed tones. I supposed there was a difference.

Nicolai held up a finger. “You and Jamie must not do it until ready.” Wow, his English was improving, even the intonation and beginnings of words. “Saf was with me. We are real brothers now there and here.” He wagged his finger at Peter. “You must wait. You will know when you are ready. You wank wiz him that is all, suck maybe...” He looked at me. “....Please, Gramps, I use words I know.” He looked at young James this time. “...I tell you, you not fuck with him until you know you really love like brother. You make plenty stuff like him every day. You are healthy boy like him.” He waved a hand nonchalantly. “Lots of stuff you need let go, one, two, three times a day. You do by your self or with other young Jimbo plenty times you say, wank, wank, wank, or that other boy in the boat?....,”

“.....that Martin, you wank him and you fuck him if you like. You not do it with love. That will be practice. You get rid of stuff, that is all. I wank with boys in Russia, I suck too, no love!” His shook his head. “That Jak and that Saf they told you last night they get rid of stuff with other boys, wank, suck, fuck.” He shook his head again. “You not fuck Jimbo. He is too good friend. You fuck him when you make him better friend and he fuck you like Peter. One day...” He wagged his finger again. “....You will know. You wait. You will be big like Andrew. Good then. He very good.” He shook his head and grinned and looked at me, “I finish!” He reached over caught hold of Andrew and gave him a big kiss.

There was little more to discuss. Nicolai in his logical and succinct way had encapsulated all I would have said again. I think Peter and young James would at some date make a pact. I think that both Peter and young James would go on to provide more twigs for the family tree. I hoped either Jak or Saf, or both, would continue my own family line. But all that would be in the future. Now, the boys were in that time when their urges were paramount and needed immediate gratification. But then, in my experience this went on for many, many years after that initial bursting into flower in ones teens. But urgency reigned and I could see the way that Peter was looking at young James that two fountains of youth would be set flowing before tea-time. One last request was made before I left them all to their own devices.

We spent two more days at Ulvescott. The book was removed and was lodged in Piers' room. Two by two they perused it pages from the disappearing acts that went on. I got the impression that the two youngsters were initiated into the next level from wanking each other from a hurried conversation I heard between Peter and his brother when the pair were about to start class on the second morning. Andrew nodded and Peter executed all the movements faultlessly as young James watched him and played his flute, I felt, for him. Someday, perhaps not long, that final pact would be made and sealed.

Andrew at eighteen went back to the school for his last term. Nicolai stayed with us. He wasn't too comfortable with his new identity but knew that in the artistic world many people were best known by their pseudonyms. In May I took him along to the examination halls. It was the final examination day for one student in particular. As he came out he saw me standing in full scarlet doctoral robes preparatory for some later ceremony. He came over.

“Gary,” I said, “Let me introduce the young man whose life you helped to save. This is Nicolai Filipovich.” Very solemnly they shook hands then Nicolai gave Gary a real Russian bear hug. “Gary,” I went on when he was released and the two stood looking and smiling at each other, “Congratulations on your degree. We had a preliminary exam board meeting this morning. I saw Jake hovering at the Porter's Lodge and he might let slip....” I smiled at him. “Hurry up, he's got news for you!”

Nicolai couldn't be left to rot at home. He assiduously did class and exercised at the boathouse and was a popular figure there with the boys as a couple were doing Russian for School Cert or A Level. We found a dance studio where he practised various roles under the guidance of a retired ballerina. He also taught a few youngsters and I was most impressed with his patience. I saw him with two small boys, eight or nine, who were really under his spell. They tried their hardest and he was so helpful and the three finished the lesson with the pair so much more in control. I complimented him and he said he remembered how he was at that age and the help he'd been given by his teacher who was a retired dancer from the Bolshoi. He said he liked teaching.

I had gone that day to collect him as I was taking him in the evening to dine at High Table. It was just out of term and there would be few of the dons there to want to know who this young upstart was. Actually, he was so acceptable. A couple of the old dons took quite a fancy to him I'm sure. They were rather well-known as partakers of fresh meat in their youth as another acerbic old don had said at one time. Jealous no doubt as he was as ugly as sin. Being catty myself!

I spent quite a time with Nick discussing things. His English improved by leaps and bounds and with young Jamie, Jimbo and the muscly young Martin he learned fast and was soon giving them back as good as he got. He said every day how much he missed his Andrew and his spirits were really raised when the twins arrived for an overnight stay while they harried Khaled about some aspect of a financial database they needed to know to program. I think other things were raised that night, no holds barred.

Another happy event was the dinner in London to celebrate Tim's award in the first week of May, the day he went to the Palace to be dubbed Sir Timothy by the Queen. A highlight of that evening was the Parker Quartet. John and Myf with their son, Bryn and daughter, Laurel. They played the last movement of the Debussy String Quartet and then Tim joined them for the last movement of the Trout Quintet. It was there that Maureen - now, from that day, Lady Parker - suggested to Kanga that an illustrated version of the complete translation of 'Audacity' could be published now. If she did the illustrations would he consider it? I asked her if she had read the full version and she shook her head.

I said probably but there were still laws about what might be considered pornography. She smiled and said there was a good dividing line between that and truly erotic art. She said she'd made a start. The fisherboy story with James and Allan. She would send me the sketches of Neptune and a couple she'd done of James and Allan together as well. Who would they be modelled on? She tapped the side of her nose. “You'll see,” she said.

The sketches came within a week. There was no doubt who was Neptune the fisherboy. Me, Jacko! As I was as a teenager, with a lithe teenager's body and, in the action of casting the net, a hint of a nicely-formed teenage cock. All from a copy of that original sketch by her brother. The sketches of James and Allan were back views only. I felt they were a bit too much like Michelangelo's David and she said she'd had to do that as she had no teenage models available. But, those sketches were excellent. Solution. There would plenty of potential models around. No doubt eager to flaunt their well-honed bodies in all sorts of poses. I would have to count up.

I sent her a copy of the transcript of the whole book with a note saying I expect she'd get plenty of help if she came while the boys were at home. I got a 'phone call which started “Wow” and went on “What have I let myself in for?”, with a continuation of “I'll do it”, “Tim's got a couple of concerts in Cambridge at the beginning of July!”. All settled. We would see.

At the end of May I went with Igor Petrovich Godunov for his audition with the Royal Ballet. He danced Spartacus and two other roles. Two days later the letter came. 'Nicholas Good' was accepted, attend for first rehearsal Monday, October the Third, 10 a.m. Three months probation then, if satisfactory, a contract would be offered. Nicolai wept for joy. He was going to succeed! His partner would already be there. They would be together. What more could he ask?