10.                   Further Revelations

Some of the Characters Appearing or Mentioned

Mark Henry Foster Tristan (Tris) Price‑Williams Ivo Richie Carr  Adam Benjamin Carr  Bryce (Babyballs) McArdle  Toby Barker  David (Dingley) Dell Annabelle Lewis     Alexandra Coutts    Charles (Clarissa) Fane‑Stuart    Mirabelle Fane‑Stuart

The storyteller His well‑proportioned boyfriend Mark’s cousin:  chunky and cheeky with it  Ditto, as his twin A sullen overlooked over‑muscled Aussie rugger player A bright boatie and actor The Augustus Pennefather organ scholar Oct '98‑Jul '01 A friend for all seasons and terrifying Ladies' Lacrosse player Annabelle's 'friend' and not to be trifled with The 'Servant of the Chapel' and Footlights star ‘Mother’

As we went across the quad to the dining hall Tristan tapped my arm.  Trundling along the

path by the Hall wall was the lumbering figure of Babyballs.  As we approached on the

diagonal we met at the steps into the Hall.  "Hi, Bryce," said Ivo in a cheery voice, "How's it

hanging?"  A low mutter and a curl of the mouth was the only response as he clumped up the

steps and only managed to just pass through the narrow half‑door.  "He should try that

sideways it might be easier.  Moron!" said Adam, with a snort.  I remembered the over‑

weight lady opera‑singer's retort when in the same situation.  "He ain't got no sideways," I

said with a fake American accent.  "Lovely," said Ivo.

     Over lunch Ivo decided we would walk to the station.  We could have a quick look at

the outside of the Fitzwilliam Museum as well as seeing the exteriors of other colleges on the

way.  So all was decided.  It was also going to be useful as I had plenty of questions which

needed answering.  I was rather reticent about the first.  It was fairly plain I wouldn't be the

only candidate.  Pinch‑Bum, or whatever his name was, had said about someone the day

before.  But was he just for a History place, or was he a Pennefather aspirant?

     Ivo looked at Adam after I hesitantly asked the question, did they know?  "We didn't

like to say but Ivo found out there's three candidates," said Adam catching hold of my arm.

"There was one on Thursday who just came and went, he didn't stay overnight as far as we

know.  And there's one on Monday but again that's all we know.  Anyway, Marky, you'll be

here whatever."

     Three candidates, two down and one to go.  Still as he said I would be following in

Grandad's footsteps.  Ivo must have read my thoughts.  " If you didn't get it you might be

able to have Grandad's old room 'cause Fatso McArdle's only got one more year." He

sniggered.  "It'll have to be fumigated and the wank stains scraped off the floor boards no

doubt.  But I wonder if there's any juice left in those little peanuts?"

     Tris had pricked up his ears.  "Is it true about him, then?  It's not just a nickname?"

     Ivo shook his head.  "Bryce has been taking steroids since he was about fourteen or

fifteen so I heard.  They certainly shrink your balls because when I've seen him in the

showers after a match they don't even hang.  They're like his were..." he pointed at Adam

who was grinning away, "...when he was eighteen last year..."

     Adam's grin disappeared.  "Eight you mean, I hope.  If we weren't outside King's I'd

show you.  I've always been proud of my knackers.  We all are aren't we Marky?  Big lugs,

big balls."

     "Shut up," said Ivo, "We all know you're an exhibitionist.  And make sure you wear

tighty‑whities under that kilt thing for Charley and not that dirty old jockstrap you hang out

of."

     "What have you got to do?" asked Tris interrupting the interchange

     "Not much, just stand around and look pretty.  Clarissa's promised her patter will be

suitably filthy especially when Adam passes her the basket containing the asp."

     "Is he really funny?" Tris asked.

     "Oh yes, it's all full of one‑liners, double‑entendres and so on.  A bit like Frankie

Howard but better."

     Having laughed heartily at 'Up Pompeii', if he was better he must be good.

     "What was he like as Helen of Troy," I asked.

     "Stupendous!" said Adam.  "Clarry was all tarted up in this flimsy dress and reclining

on a chaise‑longue and there was Toby Barker as Paris lumbering around behind her in a

leather skirt thing and a breastplate and a huge sword down by his side.  She was saying how

big and clumsy he was with him in all that  armour bumping into things and crushing her

little knick‑knacks, ...he's huge anyway...  'I've had him up to here...' she said putting her

hand on her throat, '....and down to there, too.  But he's a bit soft, in the head, I mean, can't

keep his end up whatever one does with him...  But he's lovely with it...'" Adam was doing a

full‑blown imitation with falsetto voice, actions, the lot, much to the amusement not only of

us but passers‑by too, except for one man who took one look and crossed the road.  "...'keeps

a girl amused at all hours especially when he whips out that great dagger of his and pins me

to the table..'"

     Ivo was laughing as Adam calmed down.  "May not sound much, but it's relentless

and the hoi polloi all love it.  I think most of them don't realise Clarissa's really a male.

Clarry had to do an encore when we saw her and poor old Toby was almost mauled to death

when she clutched him and bent him backwards over the end of the chaise‑longue and saying

how much she loved the dangly bits on his armour.  'I never knew they made them so big'

was her last line as poor old Toby's leather skirt thing flopped back over the tops of his legs."

     "Lucky he was wearing his tighty‑whities, too," said Adam.

     "And you're willing to take part?" asked Tris.

     "Gosh, yes!" said Adam, "Old Tobe's had more drinks bought for him since that than

ever before!"

     "It'll be great fun anyway, pity you won't be there to see it," Ivo said.

     "How did he get this Toby to take part?" I asked.

     "They're great pals.  He has the same tutor as Clarry ‑ they're both reading

Philosophy."  Ivo laughed.  "He's a boatie, but a bright boatie and Charles being seen around

with him means that Clarry isn't harassed by the dumber ones."

     "Are they really dim?  All those big blokes we saw when having lunch? " asked Tris.

     "Difficult to say," said Adam.  "Quite a few come from overseas, like Babyballs.

They have to be graduates or accepted here for a degree.  I know Bryce has got some degree

already and he's reading Land Economy here.  Useful when he goes back to Daddy's ranch,

whatever.  But whether Daddy will be pleased as he's only in our College XV.  Never got a

look‑in for a possible Blue."

     "Yeah," said Ivo, "He's so bad‑tempered, too, been sent off  twice. One of the chaps

in our team is reading Medicine and he says that's due to the pills he takes, just like his

shrunken bollocks, and he said he doesn't give him much of a chance reaching forty the way

he's going."

     "It makes you wonder why he does it," said Tris.  "And what about the boaties, 'cause

you said about them being dumb, too?"

     Ivo laughed.  "It's the usual little war between the different groups of students.  The

Classics and Philosophy lot look down on everyone.  The English and History nerds don't

like the Nat Scis and anyone who's sporty comes in for general condemnation.  So everyone

says things about boaties implying they're as thick as half a dozen planks and not very well

endowed although most are big blokes."

     "What do you call a boatie with a one inch dick?"  Adam asked as he nudged Tristan.

Tristan shook his head.  "Justin!" crowed Adam.  There were audible groans.

     "Yep, and they think oilseed rape is what us rugger‑buggers get up to on a Saturday

night," said Ivo."

     "That's enough," said Adam, "If you tell them now they'll know all the punch‑lines

before they get here."

     We'd got to the Museum and I stood looking at the impressive portico.  I wondered if

I should ask about Charles.  It might seem ungrateful enquiring about him as he'd been so

generous and friendly the night before and again today.  Adam was chatting to Tris saying

there was plenty to see inside when I more or less plucked up courage.

     I nudged Ivo who was reading the notice board about a forth‑coming exhibition.

"There's one more thing I want to ask...."

     He turned and laughed.  "I know exactly and I've been waiting... ...Is it about Clarry?"

     I nodded and the other two joined us as we walked in a row up the wide pavement.

"One thing is he doesn't really like us calling him Clarry.  He says it makes him sound as if

he's  in the same league as Julian Clary but I think Charles is even better.  But you want to

know.."

     "...whether he's gay?" said Adam.  "We don't honestly know.  The more we know

from being around him is that he is a very thoughtful person and a lot of that flummery and

flamboyance is sheer affectation and he uses it to good effect as it scares off lots of people

but it does make him vulnerable to others.  Toby's a great friend of his and I don't think for a

moment old Tobe's gay, he just likes him as a person.  We've seen him chatting to Old

Albert who's no fool and you can see the old boy thaw and young Jason worships him though

they wind each other up...."

     "...Yeah, another good friend is Dingly ‑ he always acts as his accompanist and we

mustn't forget Annabelle..."  Ivo had taken over, then he chuckled.  "...She's the stage

manager and plays lacrosse and she's built....."  He made extravagant hand movements which

outlined a rather voluptuous female figure.  "But as far we know she's about the only woman

anyone's seen him with.  And he's steered clear of the Gay Soc as I know the Secretary

who's in my tutor group.  So we don't know."

     Tris was very thoughtful as he turned to Ivo walking beside him.  "Would you guess I

was gay?"

     "I'm being very truthful.  I don't know.  Because I do know, it's difficult to say."

     "Same here," said Adam, "And if it wasn't for the pretty pink handbag and that

horrible green eye shadow I wouldn't know about my little cousin, either!"  I gave him a

quick swipe with my handbag ‑ my black clarinet case.  "No, neither of you act like Charles,

nor any of the stereotypes you see on telly or in the films.  I think you're just yourselves ‑ but

rather sweet with it!"  He narrowly missed losing his vital possessions as I swung the case

again.  "Now don't get vicious, dear," he said in a perfect imitation of Charles's voice when

peeved.  "See I can do it when I want ‑ I am very wanton most of the time."

     "All the time," I said, "I remember....."  I laughed.  "I know you too well, Adam dear,

I'd put you down as  fifty fifty and there's a very nice boy who's been eying you up and

down, I think with intent."  I winked at Tris.

     "Are you willing Adam?" said Tris joining in as Adam looked from one to the other

of us, "I wouldn't mind sharing a double with you next year if Marky doesn't mind...  At least

it would keep it in the family."

     Ivo was giggling.  "Go on bro, call his bluff.  I know what you're like and I'd share

with him any time just to run my fingers through that gelled‑up hair.  Ooooh, lovely, I can

feel it now."

     "Speak for yourself.  Just wait until I get you back in College," said Adam, 'Casting

aspersions on my sexuality!"  He looked at me with mock sternness.  "And it's definitely not

fifty fifty.  With you I'm eighty twenty  in favour."  His face crumpled into a grin.  "You'd

turn anyone on.  Pity Charley will be gone when you arrive 'cause I could see you upstaging

Miss Thing‑Whatever in a golden jockstrap and a big smile.  And you can quote me on that!"

     We'd turned into the road leading to the station.  There were still more questions I

had to ask.

     "Sorry, but it's back to Charles again.  He kept mentioning his Mother...."

     "Mother crops up in almost every sentence," said Ivo.  "She's a shadowy figure.  As

far as I know she's never visited and Charles turns up at the beginning of each term in a

chauffeur‑driven car so there's money about somewhere.  He's only mentioned a father once

and that was when we were telling him about the farm and how he ought to come down and

see us and Dad would take him out shooting, or muck‑spreading, or emptying the slurry pit.

We were winding him up a bit and he was waving his hands about and getting rather agitated

about killing all the poor birds and what awful smells there were in the country.  It was, as

usual, too theatrical to be serious, then suddenly he seemed to crumple.  He said we were

lucky as he didn't know who, or where, his father was.  I must say we changed the subject

sharpish and we've said nothing since."

     "A bit of a mystery, Sherlock," said Adam poking me in the ribs.  "'When did you last

see your father?' is not applicable here.  Not 'Cherchez la femme' but 'Cherchez l'homme'.

See Ivo, I know the lingo!"

     "Twit!"

     As we approached the station the conversation turned to the summer vac.  We would

all be meeting up at the Villa and they said they would prime Tris with all he needed to know

about College there and they would put his name down for the Rugger Club anyway.  We

were told to be good boys and the evil‑minded Adam made salacious remarks about me

wearing Tris out over the next few months as we would both be celibate during term times

next year.  I thought privately of a few things that might happen to him while at the Villa to

wear him out!  Libidinous wretch!  "We'll let you know how the show goes," and "Best of

luck, Marky!" were the last things we heard as the train doors closed.