3.                2000 Again

So, that fateful missive had arrived on the Monday morning, the day before my confession to

Tris that I'd applied for that Organ Scholar's post.  Mum had rapped on my bedroom door

just before nine.

     "There's toast and post downstairs.  Boil yourself an egg and do one for Francis when

he comes down ‑ I'm off to Sainsbury's."

     Post?    I wasn't used to getting letters.  That could only mean one thing. A response

from St Mark's College.

     I didn't even wash although I had the residue of the previous night's most satisfactory

wank nestling in my pubic hair and up my belly.  I hopped out of bed,  pulled on a pair of

cargoes and a tee‑shirt, slipped on a pair of rather smelly trainers and scurried downstairs.

Mum was just leaving.  She wrinkled her nose when she saw me.

     "Make sure you do wash before going next door with any news.  Dilys has a keen

sense of smell."

     I blew her a kiss and pounced on the letter displayed in the middle of the table.

     I ripped it open.  It was tersely worded and to the point.  The College Dean had noted

my application for the post of the Augustus Pennefather Organ Scholar which would become

vacant in... blah, blah, blah.....  And that I had also applied to read Mathematics.  He was

sorry it was short notice but I was invited to attend on Friday May the Fifth for two

interviews.  Please to confirm with his Secretary on 01223 338... etc.   At 2 p.m. I would be

required to play Bach's Prelude and Fugue in f  minor BWV 534 and two contrasting pieces

of my own choosing as had been specified on the original notice.   As preparation I would be

allotted at least one hour to practise on Friday morning and could be accompanied by a

registrant for that and the recital.   I should also be prepared to be tested on any second

instrument.  I would then be interviewed at 4.30 p.m. by a member of the Mathematics

Faculty.

     Ouch!  Luckily I was very familiar with the Bach in any case.  Reggie Prentice had

coached me on  that as it was a favourite for examinations and those sessions at the RCM

had honed the edges.  What else?  Contrasting.  I knew what I liked and had been practising

assiduously without Tris being aware, I hoped.  I had chosen Mendelssohn's number 5 in D

major.  Definitely.  A contrast in key to the f minor of the Bach.   Then something a bit more

modern.  I was very fond of a couple of pieces by Jehan Alain.  I nodded.  'The Second

Fantaisie'.  All was well.  Reggie had looked up the specification of the organ and said he'd

also heard a recital in the chapel.  The organ was a fairly big three‑manual and could be

overpowering for any space.  Be careful.  Light registrations.  Build up carefully and, as there

were a couple of rather nice French sounding reeds from the 1968 rebuild, just the thing for

the Fantaisie.

     I 'phoned at 9.30.  All was well.  I spent the rest of the morning playing over the

pieces on the piano, imagining where my feet would go.  I also listened to my CD of Marie‑

Claire Alain's playing of the Fantaisie.  I took an uncomplaining Tristan to the church in the

afternoon giving as my excuse I had thought of entering for the Associate at Christmas.  A

white lie.  I fully intended entering but I hadn't seen the play lists yet.  So Tuesday afternoon

after another session of practice we had returned and that was when I confessed.

     That most pleasant hour passed.  We nuzzled each other and kept smiling.  I had to

get to St Mark's to be with my Tristan.  Perhaps if I didn't become the Organ scholar that

Maths don might think I was capable.

     "You're going to practice tomorrow until your fingers drop off," he said.

     "Ok, Ok," I said, "And the way you've just practised on me it's a wonder your prick

hasn't fallen off."

     "No fear of that," he rolled away from me, his tool still rampant.  "That's how it

always is when you're around."  He chuckled.  "And you're just the same."

     Although I'd just shot a substantial load my dick was also still hard.

     "We'd better move, 'cause Mum will be home soon...."

     There was the sound of the back door slamming.

     "....Oh, bugger, it's Francis!  Mustn't let him see us like this."

     "As if he could care.  Have you told him about Cambridge yet?"

     I shook my head.  "All will be revealed this evening, so go and shower and perhaps

Mum will let you stay for fodder."

     I assumed  Francis would be more interested in getting food from the pantry than in

what his big brother and his friend had been occupying themselves with.  True.  He was

sitting at the kitchen table with the most ginormous ham and pickle sandwich in front of him.

     "I'm starved," he said as Tris led the way into the room.

     "Looks like it.  I suppose you're a growing boy," said Tris.  "Anything left for us?"

     Francis looked at me.  My assumption had only been half right.  "I suppose you two

have been to bed again?  When are you going to tell me what you do?  Not that I want to do

anything like that, but I'm curious."  He looked at Tris.  "You were making enough noise on

Good Friday afternoon......"

     I didn't know that Tris could blush so deeply but his face and neck reddened.

     "....I thought I would have to call an ambulance."  He stared straight at Tris with an

absolutely straight face, then crumpled into a grin.  "...Oh, Marky, Marky, don't stop, Oh,

please!..."  He sniggered.  "Good job Mum and Dad were out....."

     Tris composed himself.  "Little boys like you should keep out of the house during

daylight hours..."

     The Toad sniggered again.  "....And nights when you stay over.  Remember I'm in the

room next door and can hear everything.  Jack showed me how to listen with a glass against

the wall.  He listens in when his sister has her boyfriend in for a session..."

     "...A session?....."  Tris went over to Francis and put his hand under his chin and

stared straight at him.  He couldn't maintain his apparent sternness.  He let go.  "Oh, Frankie,

you'll learn.  But you are quite aware that Marky and I love each other."  Francis nodded and

grinned.  "And what we do in the privacy of our rooms is no business of yours...."  An awful

thought had struck both of us simultaneously.

     I strode over and stood the other side of Francis.  "Your friend Jack wasn't there with

you?  Eh?"

     Francis gave me a disarming smile and shook his head.  "No, of course not and he

doesn't know I used the glass.  He told me about his sister, though.  She makes funny noises

too.  That's all...  ...But I want to know.  Sometime."

     Oh what does one tell one's thirteen year‑old brother.  If he was like me he probably

was already into that developmental stage where he was enjoying wanking and rejoicing in

the production of  his own boycream.  I actually hadn't taken much notice of him and I

hadn't seen much evidence of scrunched up tee‑shirts or the excessive usage of hankies or

tissues.

     He looked at me again.  "I don't think you've been a very good brother so far.  I've

had to find everything out from whispers and from the Internet and what Jack's cousin told

him.  So, I want to know all about boys."

     Forthright and to the point!   Yes, I suppose I hadn't been a good brother.  I had been

so wrapped up in my relationship with Tris, Francis didn't come into the equation.  He was

the younger brother who ate, drank and slept in the same house and usually kept out of my

way.  He and his pal Jack were real computer buffs and enthusiastic skateboarders and he

spent a lot of time at his house.   And Jack had enlightened him?  And used the Internet?  I

wasn't into computers and had only heard of the intriguing sites one could visit.

     I looked at Tris.  He grinned and shrugged his shoulders.  "Well, I suppose you'll

have to learn some day but that sandwich looks good and I need food, too!"

     Francis didn't say any more and I made a couple of sandwiches of less enormous

proportions for us two and found some chocolate digestives which also disappeared quickly.

I went back upstairs as I found I hadn't got a handkerchief and when I returned, having found

the bed still rather rumpled  and needing tidying, Tris had gone, Mum was home and the

Toad had vamoosed as well.

     "All's arranged," Mum said, "If I didn't do it no one else would.  You and Tristan can

go to Cambridge Thursday afternoon.  You're booked in at the Arundel House Hotel for

Thursday and Friday and Sophie will prime the twins.  They've gone back early to do some

very necessary work she said but she'll see they meet you and also get you to the College on

Friday morning.  I've booked your train tickets as well and I'll check the clothes you want to

wear this evening before we eat."

     I was two weeks off seventeen.  I was of age to marry.  I could smoke.  I was fully

sexually active.  A big boy to all around.  I burst into tears.

     I rushed over to Mum and we hugged each other.  "I know, I know," she whispered in

my ear as I bent and put my head on her shoulder.  "It's that big opportunity and you don't

know if you're ready for it.  Don't worry.  We've all been through it.  You'll survive.  Do

your very utmost best.  We won't feel any different if this one doesn't come off..."  She

moved her head and kissed my damp cheek.  "...You've got time....."

     I sniffled a bit and was glad I'd made the journey upstairs for the hankie.  I stood up

and wiped my eyes.  "Thanks, Mum," I said as steadily as I could, "I don't want to disappoint

you and Dad.  It's all a bit overwhelming I've just realised."  I tried a smile.  "I couldn't do

anything without you and Dad behind  me..."

     "...And Tris?" she asked.

     "And Tris," I said, smiling properly.

     Tris came to dinner and Dad was home too, no evening concerts to scrape at for two

nights, as he said.  He'd been particularly busy over Easter, even on Good Friday with the

Bach St Matthew, and he and Mum had decided a night on the town on Wednesday ‑ theatre

and dinner afterwards ‑ so they wouldn't be back until well after midnight.  He had known

my news on Monday but Frankie looked at me with eyes of wonderment when we told him at

dinner.  Tris was quite over the moon.  He said he was so glad he was coming with me and

would pull any stops I wanted.... he stopped before any double entendres could ensue but

Dad had a knowing grin on his face.  Frankie's eyes popped even more when Dad produced a

bottle of champagne and we had a glass each as a pre‑celebration.

     I didn't sleep too well that night.  I had that awful dream where I was running because

I didn't know where I was and all the houses had their doors locked and the streets were

endless but at the end I always emerged in a quiet room....  I think I was quite exhausted

when I dropped off at last and was pretty glad when Mum rapped on the bedroom door in the

morning.

     "Now, don't practice too much today," she admonished me as I sat down rather

lumpily at the breakfast table after I'd told her I hadn't slept too well.  "Just pace it.  I expect

you know the pieces pretty well.  And pack your clothes tidily, you can't appear all crumpled.

And don't forget to clean your clarinets and see you've got good reeds."

     "And clean undies..." murmured the Toad who was shovelling Frosties into his gob as

if there was no tomorrow.

     I gave him the big brother look but all he did was shovel another fully‑loaded spoon

into his capacious maw.

     "You can look after him today," Mum said nodding her head towards my gluttonish

brother.  "I have to see some poor girl this morning who's worried her top C isn't available

on cue.  Your Dad's rehearsing this afternoon so he'll meet me at the College and we'll go

on from there."  She smiled.  "Not too arduous, make the child..."  The 'child' looked up and

sneered.  "...a couple of sandwiches and you're both invited next door for a proper meal..."

She emphasized 'proper' and 'the child's' sneer  changed to a satisfied 'good‑ho' grin.

"...this evening.  But early to bed."  She looked at Frankie.  "Just because I'm not here no

staying up late and watching telly!"  The 'child' sneered again.  I didn't think my facial

features could undergo so many changes of expression in so short a time.  Perhaps 'the child'

had a future in the theatre?  "Is that clear?" 

     "Yes, Mum," was the concerted, only possible, response from both of us.

     The day passed.  Frankie said he was going to the skateboarders' paradise in the local

Park later.  The theatrical thoughts caused me to murmur 'Break a leg' which I instantly

regretted and was glad he hadn't heard.   First I went through to the front room where I

usually practised and played through various pieces I liked on my B flat clarinet, then had a

go at the Mozart Concerto on my A.  I was pleased with my playing and as I finished the last

joyful runs of the concerto Tris came silently into the room.

     "I love that," he said as I played the last note and took a welcome breath.  All I could

do was nod.  I loved that piece, too, and often played my old Jack Brymer recording Dad had

bought me as he had known Jack from his orchestral days.  I tried to emulate his wonderful

tone and vibrant playing.

     We had coffee and after that we walked along to the church.  I played through each

piece once, and once only.  I had memorised the College stop list and tried to think what it

would be like from  the rather bigger three‑manual we had in the church.  I tried to match up

numbers of stops and types but as I hadn't heard the other one I would have to wait until I

practised.   Anyway, not toooo loud, don't change too much in the Bach, not toooo fast, clear

articulation especially in those pedal jumps in the Mendelssohn and in the pedal runs,

interesting registrations for the Alain, etc. etc..  I scribbled possibilities on Post‑It notes and

breathed a sigh of partial contentment as my fingers and feet had seemed to be working in

co‑ordination.  I switched off the motor and slid off the organ seat.   Tris grabbed me,

oblivious of the cleaner down below, and hugged me and whispered.  "I love you."

     There was a note on the kitchen table when we got home.  "Lunching at Jack's.  Back

at 5.  Best wishes,  F."

     Tris grinned and put his arm round my shoulder, "Seems like Francis wants big

brother to be happy."  I told him of my misplaced sentiment.  He laughed.  "Microbe's not

too bad as little brother's go, I think."  Microbe was Frankie's nick‑name that Tris had given

him very early on as he had been very small in relation to us and his second name was

Michael.  "At least he doesn't smell of horse like Shelley does most days!"  I agreed.  Facial

expressions and the odd sarky comment were better than the aroma of the stable.

     Anyway Tris was happy.  After telling him of my disturbed night  he was soon

holding me tight and telling me I had nothing to worry about, I had nothing to escape from,

so come upstairs.  There he  received two long, slow insertions of my, oh‑so rampant, tool

and was brought to two ecstatic climaxes of his own.  "If I hadn't been in church this

morning...," he murmured in my ear after I had slowly drawn that second spurting effusion

from him,  "...I could have come without trying when you played those last lovely chords of

the Fantaisie.  I wanted you then and I've had you now.....  I'm going to miss you next

year...."

     We lay quietly and then rose and cleaned ourselves and dressed.  "You'll win," he

whispered as we held each other before going downstairs  "And don't forget, I'll only be

there if I get the required A's".

      "You will," I said with real confidence.

     Dead on five o'clock Francis appeared, looked at us sitting in the living‑room, my

nose in the Applied Maths text this time, Tristan reading through a folder of History notes.

"Can I watch Neighbours later before we go out?"  Two heads shook.  "Bollocks!" he said

and stamped upstairs.  We grinned at each other.  What had the younger generation come to

saying words like that!

     At least Francis was ready at seven when I called up the stairs that we'd better be

going next door.  "At least I'll be in charge when you two are off," he said as he came into

the kitchen.

     "When we're both off you'll be fifteen and a bit older and a bit wiser than now I

hope, but you'll miss us," said Tris putting an arm round his shoulders.

     For once the Toad looked a bit downcast.  "Yeah, I'll miss you," he said quietly, then

jumped away from Tris.  "And I did watch Neighbours.  Jack sent it over by Webcam!"

     For that we grabbed him and gave him a 'smack arse and tickle' routine which always

reduced him to a quivering jelly pleading for life and limb and which satisfied our sense of

superiority.

     When we let him down he looked quite defiant but grinned.  "When I'm fifteen you'd

better  watch it 'cause I'll be bigger as well as older and wiser and you'll just be older and

more decrepit."

     As he was standing on the other side of the kitchen table and it would have taken

effort on our parts to reprimand him further I just said he'd better behave himself tonight or

I'd tell Mum, especially as he'd already used a rude word in Tris's presence.  That shut him

up for all of five minutes until we entered the Price‑Williams' house and he starting razzing

Shelley up about her love of horseflesh ‑ a thing which boys could never understand about

girls ‑ and she was simpering, obviously thinking he was making eyes at her.  I sidled up

behind him and pinched his bum and asked Shelley to tell him how she had won that last

rosette at the Easter gymkhana.  When we sat down for dinner he looked daggers at me

across the table.  'Call me decrepit, eh?' I thought.

     All was healed, or forgotten, as Mrs P‑W then produced the most sumptuous dinner.

Salmon roulade with a salad and herbed dressing as a starter, a Boeuf a la Bourguignonne to

praise Heaven for as main, and, after two helpings of that with all the lovely veggies, there

were man‑sized Petits Pots de Café to end.  Mrs P‑W said if anyone liked it the French way

we could have the cheese before the pud.  Luckily the double entendre was lost on the two

young‑'uns and Mr P‑W gave Tris a long look and grinned.  Anyway, Uncle Nick as Francis

and I called him, was in his element.  He loved good food and good wine and he opened a

bottle of claret for the beef and cheese which even I could appreciate.

     Before we finished dinner he stood  and raised his glass and grinned, this time, at me.

"To those who go down to the sea in ships..."

     "Dad," said Tristan, "Be sensible for once."  He stood and raised his glass.  "This

toast with three times three we'll give ‑ Long life to you......"

     '...Till then' ‑ I thought.  I looked from father to son who both gurned like idiots at

me.  Tris and I had been in the school production of the Mikado before Christmas, him as a

stately Pooh‑Bah, me as the hapless Nanki‑poo, so I knew how that solo ended.

     "You two set that up," I said.  "I don't even have a month to prove myself."

     "But you will in just two days' time," said Mrs P‑W, "We have every faith in you, so

here's to your future, sincerely and completely."

     Even the Toad said 'And so say all of us' over his brimming glass of Coca‑Cola.

     I nodded to Francis when the grandfather clock in their drawing‑room struck ten.

Without a murmur of dissent he got up, thanked Uncle Nick and Auntie Di with aplomb,

blew an air‑kiss at a blushing Shelley and, for some unknown reason, winked at Tristan.  I

said my goodbyes, too, and he followed me down the drive and into our drive.  I opened the

front‑door.

     "A perfect evening," I said.  "And I'm ready for bed."

     "So am I," said Francis and he went through to the kitchen as I strolled leisurely up

the stairs.  "Don't forget to leave the porch light on,"  he called out as I reached the top.  I

swore quietly and came down again as he emerged from the kitchen bearing a glass of water.

     I checked the downstairs rooms again and went up to my room visiting the second

bathroom first.  It was an unwritten rule.  The second bathroom was for me and the small

shower room was his.  All was well.  He'd followed me up and now his door was shut.  I

peed and sighed.  I was replete and content but the old Adam, although  exercised fully this

afternoon, was stirring.  Good food and a little wine seemed to do wonders for the loins.  In

my room I stripped off completely, folded my clothes and slipped into bed under my snug

duvet in my usual state of nudity.  I stretched, arranged my arms and legs in a most

comfortable position and lay quietly to see if Nature would call for attention.