I started back at school three weeks or so before Tris went to Cambridge.  The night before his departure we'd had a superb meal which Auntie Di had prepared with all her expertise.  Uncle Nick said if Tris thought that was the standard of cooking he'd get for the next eight weeks he'd be most mistaken.  As we'd experienced school dinners and that lunch at St Mark's ‑ substantial and filling but a bit monotonous ‑ I thought he'd cope. It wasn't a tearful farewell but, I think, we were both a bit emotional.

      I didn't go with him and his parents when he went up next day with all his clobber to

get settled in.  When they got back they came in and had a meal and told us the news.  Uncle

Nick said the College hadn't changed much since he'd visited it when he was an

undergraduate along at Caius, still as dark and dingy as ever in his opinion. They said they'd

met Charles who was helping the Porters to usher all the Freshers around.  But  the best bit of

news was that Tris was on Stair F in the room above the Pennefather Scholar and below the

twins' room.   It looked as if Charles and naughty young Knott had dealt with that during the

previous few days as Jason was busy painting Tris's name over a name on the board at the

entrance to the stairway when they arrived.  I got the impression that Jason was a little richer

after that.

     The next day the Thugs arrived.  They liked to break their journeys to and from

Cambridge and now they were seasoned scholars, starting their second year, they didn't need

to be back early to mingle with the wet‑behind‑the‑ears Freshers.  That was their story.  They

arrived astride a rather nice motor‑bike which, somehow, they'd inveigled their poor father to

buy.   While Ivo was in France Adam had taken his proficiency training and test and was in

charge.  This rather rankled with the first‑born and was another bone of contention in the

continuation of their brotherly argy‑bargy which always amused Tris and me, if not others,

who worried when two rather muscular young men launched a seeming full‑frontal attack on

each other.  These quite friendly wrestles never finished as one or the other would cry 'Pax',

a signal to stop, which they instantly obeyed, only to start once again when another argument,

however minor, began.  Thus the soubriquet 'the Thugs' which Dad had applied, albeit

lovingly, to them when they were still at Prep School.

     Dad was home when they arrived in the middle of the afternoon and they were

probably greeted with the usual welcome to Thug Number One and Thug Number Two and

the admonition as they were hugged, "That's my bowing arm, I don't want it crushed!".  So,

when I arrived home they were comfortably ensconced in easy chairs in the drawing‑room

with a plate of buns and mugs of tea.

     As soon as I appeared in the room they were up and I was also hugged and just about

crushed with a dual, "Oh, hasn't our little cousin grown?" or some such inanity.  As I was at

least two inches taller than either of them and had seen both at the Villa up until less than a

month ago I ignored their foolishness and managed to give Ivo's genitalia a friendly squeeze

in response to the same he'd done to me during that initial hug.  Luckily Dad had retired to

the Shed to practice, Mum was in the front room with a student and Frankie was upstairs

wrestling with his computer game as Ivo mouthed "Bastard!" straight in my ear and I was

upended between the pair of them and my knackers were squeezed in return again.

     "What a welcome," I said when I was released and had grabbed a bun before all had

disappeared, "Sexual harassment as soon as my desirable body appears on the scene."

     "Bollocks!" was the joint reply.  "Just because you're sex‑starved now Tris has left

you in the lurch," said Ivo.

     "Thinking about it, I might just seduce the poor lonely soul when we get back to

Cambridge," said Adam, "At least he'd be on tap and I wouldn't have to go out on a cold

night hunting for a bit."

     I thought World War Number Three was about to break out.  Ivo was obviously more

than annoyed with Adam over that statement.  I was a bit upset knowing how much we all

valued those occasions at the Villa and now he....

     "Don't ever think of that!" said Ivo in such a tone of voice we both knew he meant it.

"You do anything to Tris and you'd have me to answer for.  He's Marky's and because we all

shared our love and affection freely on holiday doesn't mean you'd be anything like a

suitable substitute!"

     Poor Adam.  He looked stunned.  A supposedly jokey remark had back‑fired terribly.

I went up to him and hugged him.  "Adam, don't worry, I know you were joking but Ivo's

right, I'd be devastated if Tris found a substitute for me."

     Adam was clearly upset.  "Sorry, old mate, didn't mean it like that.  Please forgive."

     I hugged him again.  "All's forgiven but I'm also glad I've got such a good friend as

Ivo who'll keep my interests at heart."

     "Sorry again, it's my big mouth and the brain's not in gear."

     It was all OK the situation was defused.  And it wasn't long before Frankie bounced

in and Mum and Dad joined us.

     "I thought when in residence students weren't allowed to have any mechanical means

of transport other than a plain bicycle," Dad said, intending to wind the pair up.

     Ivo was miffed anyway over not being able to be in command of the motor‑bike.

"No, he can't keep it in College," he said.  We all noted the 'he', not 'we'.

     "But I am being allowed to garage it," said Adam.

     "At Pinch‑Bum's," said a not‑to‑be‑unmiffed Ivo

     As Mum and Dad already knew of that cognomen for Mr Finch‑Hampton after my

encounter with him they took no notice.  I thought a little stir‑up was required.

     "Where's that?" I asked, then in a sarcastic tone, "He is being friendly."

     "Huh," said Ivo, "He's got a house out on the Madingley Road..."

     "...And has kindly said I may leave the bike in his garage," said Adam interrupting

with such a seraphic smile on his face.  "I'm the blue‑eyed boy at the moment.  He gave my

last essay to some don in another college who'd said we were all dumb‑clucks at St Mark's

and the old boy apparently said he would have given it an alpha rather than the beta double

plus Pinch‑Bum had given it.  So there!"  The last directed at his brother.

     I could sense that "Arse‑licker" wasn't far from Ivo's tongue.  He managed "Creep!"

instead.

     "He said if I continued my studies in the same vein I would be a credit to the College

and to him."

     "If you get a First, he'll take all the credit, you mean!" said Ivo.

     "He is a good teacher, you must admit," countered Adam, "That rather dim rugger

bod from South Africa got a Desmond last year after his tutor gave up on him and Simon

took him on."

     "It's Simon, now, is it?" said Ivo with a hint of acid in his voice.

     Luckily inquisitive Frankie was there, hoping, of course to be offered a pillion ride.

"What's a Desmond?" he asked.

     Ivo was always answering Frankie's questions and, actually, I wanted to know as

well.  Like Woody Allen and 'Everything You Wanted To Know About Sex and Didn't Dare

Ask'.  Why did I think of that in conjunction with Frankie?

     "Did you know there were different classes of degrees?" asked Ivo

     Frankie shook his head.  "No.  I thought you just got a BA or something."

     "No," said Ivo, "In order there's a Geoff, then an Attila, a Desmond, a Douglas and

finally a Khyber."

     Frankie looked very puzzled and I wondered what the Hell he was talking about.  Dad

and Adam were laughing and Mum looked quite uninterested.

     "What's a Geoff?" asked Frankie.

     "Quite simple," said Ivo, "They go from the top ‑ a First Class is a Geoff, that's Geoff

Hurst...."

     ".....Oh," said Frankie cottoning on slightly quicker than me, "It's rhyming slang!

He's a footballer!"

     "Give that boy a coconut!" said Adam, laughing even more, and as he was sitting next

to Frankie squeezed his leg above the knee ‑ a move guaranteed to set him off squealing.

     "The next is an Attila," said Ivo

     "The Hun?" queried Frankie who both wriggled away from Adam's grasp and got the

association there, at least.

     "Yes, Attila the Hun, rhymes with Two One, that's the next class.

     "So what are the others, then?" Frankie asked, "Didn't you say Desmond and

Douglas?"

     "Yep," said Ivo, "A Desmond is a Two Two, Tutu like the Archbishop, and a Douglas

is a Third ‑ Douglas Hurd the politician."

     I laughed.  "I've guessed the last one!  Up the Khyber!  Khyber Pass!  Pass!"

     "That's a double rhyme," said Adam, looking at Dad who was laughing and nodding.

"Mustn't say it in front of the child!   It is the bottom grade, though!"  He put emphasis on

'bottom'.

     "What's that?"  'The Child' demanded.  Then the realisation hit him.  Of course,

every schoolboy knows.  Khyber Pass.  Arse.  He fell silent, mainly because Mum had gone

spare when he'd dropped a plate in the kitchen only a couple of weeks ago which had

shattered and he'd said "Oh fuck!".  It wasn't the plate breaking but the expletive.  No pocket

money that week.  And there was Dad laughing.  I could almost see the cogs grinding.

Should he say it?  Mum was stirring.  Oh no!

     So, Frankie changed the subject.  "Laurent's coming over for the weekend at the

beginning of our half‑term......"  I noted the 'our'. Did that mean I was to be involved in

something?   "....Can we come to Cambridge?  Laurent hasn't been and we can see Tris."  He

turned to me. "Can't we, Marky?"

     For once the Child, Toad, Microbe, whatever, had made a good suggestion.  I wanted

to hear from Tris now, this moment, but seeing him at half‑term would be ideal, or better

than nothing.  I said, "Good idea.   Day trip. On the Saturday?"  Then I wondered if that

might scupper any liaisons the twins might have arranged ‑ I expected they might be playing

in a match during the afternoon but we could have lunch with them and Tris and explore the

city and colleges ‑ going on a punt would be out, I thought, too cold!

     That night when we went up to bed Ivo and Adam followed me into my room.

"We're not staying," said Ivo, "Just to say we'll keep an eye on Tris for you, especially as

he's in the room below us."

     "We'll see he comes to no harm," said Adam, "And I'm so sorry if you got upset

earlier.  We love you and Tris just like brothers after we shared each other's love during the

summer."

     "Yes," said Ivo, "It's true.  We learned a lot and we'll value that for ever."  He

smiled.  "And I've got to keep my eye on this one too, now.  He'll be so far up Simon's..."

'Simon's' said with even more acidity.  "...arse‑hole with that tongue of his we'll have to tie

a rope to his ankle!"

     I shoved the pair of them out of the room and Adam had Ivo's head in almost an arm‑

lock as they went off, quite silently, to the spare room.  I was in bed very quickly.  Images of

that summer's couplings, of Ivo and Adam's bronzed muscled bodies with their sturdy

erections merging with the pictures of my Tristan and his firm, raunchy, sexy body......Oh,

OOH, OOOH!  I had hardly touched my own more than sturdy erection when the first of the

three tumultuous climaxes of that night occurred.  I needed the release of so much pent‑up

emotion.  Fuck it, I had to get to sleep as I had an early start at school tomorrow!  I was on

duty checking off the late‑comers in my role as a full Prefect. 

     I waited in vain all the rest of the week for any message from Tris.  Everyone at

church on Sunday wanted to know how he was getting on and all I could say was he'd gone

up with Mr and Mrs Price‑Williams and all we'd heard  since was one e‑mail when I got

back from school on Thursday afternoon which just said 'Wow, too busy to write now I'm

off to the Freshers' meeting!!!'

       I moped a bit but practised like mad to vent my frustrations.  I vented my

frustrations three times in another way on Saturday and Francis kept eyeing me and said little

as I might have been on a short fuse.  He did a sweet thing after we went to bed on Sunday

evening.  I had just undressed when there was a discreet tap on the door and a whispered

'Marky'.

     I opened the door and Francis eyed me fully this time.  I was in my natural state just

about to crawl into my lonely pit.

     "Marky," said Francis, looking up at me with quite a soulful look in his eyes, "If you

like I'll keep you company tonight."  He shook his head.  "Nothing else."  He smiled up at

me.  "I know you're missing him and you've looked so sad today after church.  I can just be

with you, if you like."

     He slipped off his boxers before getting into bed.  I clung to him rather than the other

way round.

     "Marky, can I ask you something?"  He was snuggled right up against me.

     I was so glad of the company I said "Yes".

     "When I'm old enough would you show me how boys make love like you and Tris did

with Ivo and Adam at the villa?" he said, very quietly, but there was sincerity in his question.

     I was rather startled.  Those wonderful nights hadn't been planned and I thought that

as far as the other occupants of the villa were concerned we were all in our allotted rooms

every night.  Francis and Ernesto shared a room just as the other two pairs of us did.  Ivo and

Adam came to us in Tris's and my room, we thought, without others knowing.

     "How did you know?"  I asked without betraying a rather heightened concern.  What

did he know?

     "It's alright," he said, he must have detected something.  "Nesto and I couldn't sleep

one night so we went along the outside balcony and we heard you four all talking together."

He paused.  "Actually, you weren't talking, it sounded as if things were happening and you

were all murmuring.  I wanted to look in but Nesto said it was very private and pulled me

away.  When I asked him he said in English you were doing boy love and he said in Italian

you were all 'arrapato', you were, you know, horny, and doing things not just pulling ‑ you

know, wanking...."  He lapsed into silence..

     "When you're older we'll talk about it, but not tonight.  It was very right for Nesto

not to let you look.  It was very private and I know you wouldn't want to upset Ivo and

Adam.  It was private for them and for Tris and me.  Do you understand?"

     "You'll tell me though some time?  It's important just like when I asked you things

before.  I need to know and I promise I won't say anything to Jack.  He's looked things up

like that on the Internet but this is really private, I know.  Please?"

     "I promise," I said and kissed his cheek.  "That's to tell you I promise."

     He must have been tired as he just nodded against me and snuggled up even closer.  I

could feel his gentle hot breath on my neck as he settled and went to sleep.  I  began to relax

after that rather unsettling bit of information.  If the thirteen‑year‑old and the sixteen‑year‑old

had witnessed those final acts what would they have done?   But, Ernesto?  He must know

about love in that way. How?  But, a very kind and considerate boy taking my inquisitive

little brother away like that.  And Jack.  Frankie sensed this was something to private and

precious even to be shared with his friend.  I relaxed further and slept very soundly.  Francis

woke me up just before seven with a peck of a kiss on my nose.  "I'll do this whenever you

like and I'll wait for you to tell me things.   I can't bear to see you sad.  I love Tris as well."

     He was gone before I could answer.  Perhaps some day a Toad would be kissed and

turn into the handsome prince I knew was lurking there somewhere.

     As soon as I got home from school after the Senior Orchestra practice on Tuesday I

dived into the kitchen as I was ravenous.  There was a note from Francis propped up against

an empty milk bottle.  "You have mail.  No.  I haven't read it."  Another note, from Mum,

read, "Food at seven.  Raid fridge now."

     I didn't even raid the fridge.  I saw a packet of biscuits and grabbed three and raced

upstairs to Frankie's room.  The computer was on.  A Post‑It note stuck on the middle of the

screen said 'remember your password!'

     As an only recently deflowered computer virgin I clicked Start, then on 'Mark', typed

in 'micr9be' and clicked on the Outlook Express icon on my page.  Success!  There were

three messages.  I opened the first one which was obviously typed in haste.

     'Hi light of my life sorry for the delay but all's happening ‑ Freshers' do on Thursday

joined five clubs I think ‑ drinkies that night with Charles and invites to six drinks dos on

Friday plus lecture list to sort and have just played in a scratch team for college XV and oh

my god it's a Saturday night pub crawl next with thugs and company ‑ computer room

crowded and server down we're told.   Love Tris xxxxxxxxxx.'

     At least there was a full stop at the end.  I opened the second message and things

seemed a bit more coherent.

     'Hi love Sunday morning woken by Charles bearing hot coffee and news it was just

gone ten and Chapel was at eleven and I was in the choir remember and the Dean and

Chaplain would not be pleased.  I could hardly focus and scrabbled around and found Sunday

best and shorty gown and Charles had us all ready as Chaplain led us in.  Cant remember

much about rest of day but better this morning off to tutor at ten must rush.  Love Tris

xxxxxxxxxxxxx.'

     Odd.  Where was news of Saturday?  All was revealed in the third message.  Much,

much longer and explaining all.

               'Hi Marky.  You must think I'm a twit.  Truly all has been a rush and

the twins have been a great help most of the time.  Much to tell.  The room is marvellous if a

bit sparse at the moment.  Think of it you'll be in the room below next year!  Can't wait.

I've been to first tutorial with Dad's friend ‑ he's marvellous, said I reminded him so much of

Dad when he was at Caius.  Gave me three judgments to read to write comments on for next

week.  I have to read three chapters as well to give background and attend four lectures.  Got

to see some History don tomorrow, not P‑B probably the Chaplain, if I want to do joint.

That's all a whirl.  So's student life.

     Had all these invites to drinks.  Asked Dingley Dell on Thursday as twins nowhere to

be seen then realised they were at yours.  He said Dean, Chaplain and Master must be

attended, Moral (?) Tutor as well (He's OK, he's one of Charles's Philosophy tutors). 

Dingley said bin the rest as they were either after my soul, my arse, or my money.  Charming.

Pity he won't be here next year but you'll be taking his place.  He's short, rotund and has a

truly ribald sense of humour.  He and Charles had the three new boys in the choir for more

drinks on Thursday evening before Hall.

     I had to do the rounds on Friday so by eight o'clock Friday evening I was as pissed as

a newt.  I'd joined Debating Club, Law Society, put my name down for College Rugger and

God knows what else, all stands manned by earnest young men and nubile young ladies,

especially rugger stand ‑ hunky lads too!!  (Jealous??).

     Thugs arrived and got me into their team on Saturday and I learned new words to Ball

at Inverness and that Llanelli thing.  After that all us new ones were rounded up and we hit

the town.  I didn't know so many pubs existed and most have these big blokes on the door

and only allow six in at a time.  I kept with the Thuggies until Ivo went off with some bird.

Adam said she was Pussy Galore with emphasis on galore.  Couple of nice boaties in our

group but they down the pints in moments and I was up and down like a whore's drawers, as

Ivo said, getting refills most of the time as I was trying to pace myself.  Good job everyone

pays their own.  As it is if this continues I'll have to get a job with the local council at

Christmas shovelling snow or shit.  Reminds me, everything is on sale here.  I was offered

two deals in one pub and a bloke in another when I went to the bog for a pee was snorting a

line in a cubicle.  Adam said I had to watch it as they sometimes slipped a baggie in your

pocket and then demanded payment but I looked big enough to take care of myself.  He said

there was quite a bit going on in Coll re drugs and to steer clear.

     On a lighter note I did get propositioned three times on Saturday.  I was at the bar in

one getting the refills in when some ghastly blonde piece asked if I wanted to buy a lady a

drink.  Luckily the barman saw this and told her to push off.  'You have to watch where you

poke your pecker around here, mate,' he said and gave me an extra half of bitter.  The other

two were in the last one we ended up at.  I guess it was a test of our stamina or something as

about ten of us were led into this heaving mass of humanity.  The noise was deafening and

there were plenty of youngsters with their shirts off ‑ nicely toned most and I confess there

was a stirring ‑ and a whole bunch of older blokes in leather.  MY FIRST GAY BAR  ‑ hush

‑ I couldn't let on though Adam kept nudging me.  A rather pretty young thing twirled round

me and made kissy‑kissy noises and I did a hand jive thing with him much to the amusement

of the macho lads ‑ he whispered as he parted that his gaydar was seldom wrong and he was

always in on a Saturday and he was free at the moment.  No NO NO.  Lie down Fido ;‑)  (I

can't do those things properly, get Microbe to show you as one of your lessons).

     Best was when the others were so pissed and I went for a wander and one of the

leather guys ‑ big bloke, forties I would guess, beard, cropped hair, asked if I wanted a drink ‑

no strings attached.  I nodded and there was a scotch on the bar immediately.  I looked at him

and he just grinned.  'My son thinks I'm a twat coming here dressed liked this.  You look just

like him ‑ he's a bit older ‑ he's at the Anglia and doing well.  Mother left when she found I

liked this gear.  He's OK, put's up with Dad and his funny ways.  Anyway, you'd look good

in leather, none of this,' he tapped his rather constrained paunch, 'If you want a bit of fun

I've got plenty of this that'll fit you at home....  Any time....'  He grinned   '.....Takes one...'

he said and winked.  Funny.  Is there something about me two of them spotted or were they

just trying me out?  Funny.  In neither case did I care.

     I liked the first lad, Davy he said his name was, and Brad was the second one and was

a nice guy I could see.  I'm a bit confused and I'm missing you terribly.  I've been so busy

haven't done anything since being here.  I'll think of you tenderly and lovingly tonight Marky

my lovely Marky.

     Give my love to Microbe and tell him not to beat the living daylights out of his most

precious possession ‑ if you dare!  Love to all the family ‑ have done a shorter(!)  message to

my lot for Microbe to print out but you can go next door as well with what you think is

permissible.

     Love me as I love you,  Tris xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx.'

     I sniffed as I scrolled down to that last sentence.  That message must have taken ages

to type and he wanted me to know everything.  I sniffed again and felt down to my pocket for

my hankie.  An arm went round my shoulder.  I hadn't realised, I had been concentrating so

much, that Frankie had crept into the room silently.

     "It's OK, Marky" he said softly in that husky now rapidly changing voice, "I haven't

read it.   Don't be sad."

     I scrolled up a bit and pointed.  He squinted at the screen and mouthed in my ear as

he read.

     "Cheek.  Is that all he can write about me!"

     "Well, at least he's got you taped."

     "Can't help it!" He thumped my shoulder.  "Don't forget you were my age once, old

and ancient one."

     I swivelled round on his chair before he had a chance to move and grabbed him.  I

stood and realised my little brother was chunkier and heavier and it wouldn't be long before

our little tussles wouldn't be so one‑sided.

     He started to giggle as I held him with his arms pinioned.

     "You miss him as well," I said.

     "Yeah, of cause."

     I hugged him and he hugged me back.  That funny little brother of mine was hurting

as well.

     Term went on very speedily.  I was so immersed in my school work and practising

hard as I was taking both the ARCO and ARCM examinations before and after Christmas.

Mr Prentice gave me plenty of hints and I spent four Saturday mornings at the Royal College

being intensively tutored as well.   I think I was OK for the written parts of the exams.  I went

through past papers and Dad checked over my harmonisations.  I also became quite adept at

typing and sent an e‑mail daily to Tris.  He reciprocated and there were messages too from

the twins.  So what with the Maths and the Music, the school orchestra, being a Prefect and

the church, I was a very busy lad.

     Tris was enjoying himself which was most evident from his e‑mails.  He was getting

on well with his Law tutor and with the group of Law students he had palled up with as he'd

decided not to do a joint degree.  He said a couple of the girls had eyed him ‑ Tris was in

anyone's estimation a handsome creature, fair hair, an open honest face and a tall, well‑

proportioned physique ‑ but he had only joined in general conversations in the student bar.

He said he liked being in the Chapel choir and the Thugs, one tenor and one bass, were

keeping him in order, not only there, but also as he had joined the College Rugger Club and

had palled up with a second year boatie ‑ nice but dim, as he put it.  He said they went for a

run together most mornings and as the boatie was also reading Law they had plenty to discuss

so were spending quite a bit of time together.  No, he repeated, I'm not attracted though he's

got a good body and is well‑hung! :‑)=( :‑‑‑

     He was observing all sorts of interactions in the College and seemed to have rapidly

come to the realisation that not all academic relationships were cordial and harmonious.  An

e‑mail arrived on the third Monday he was there concerning events the previous day.

               'Hi, My Treasure.  A big row this morning after the service.  The new

organ scholar, Drew Penry‑Jones, is Welsh, born again, happy‑clappy, and a Nat Sci.  Means

he's as opinionated as hell and has so far alienated Charles and most of the choir.  I was

asked if I was saved after the first choir practice and he's told Charles that he wants nothing

to do with him until he renounces his way of life ‑ I guess he thinks he's gay ‑ and the sooner

we can have a group to accompany the singing the better.

     The Chaplain is keeping his cool so Charles informed me but Drew has an ally in one

of the ordinands doing a BPhil.  Big lad, did a theology degree in Wales, and he'll be

ordained next year.  He's OK, plays in our rugger team.  He's early twenties, hairy isn't in it,

looks like a gorilla and his nuts look like coconuts ‑ not size‑wise ‑ just masses of hair.  He's

born again too and can't stand our rather High Anglican ways.  So, after the service which

Drew had accompanied, he called the choir together and announced that when he was in

charge of the service for any day, the choir would not be needed as he'd recruited three

students playing guitar, trumpet and drums plus Drew on the piano, who would accompany

the congregation.

     I thought Ivo and Adam were going to thump him, even though he's built like the

proverbial brick‑built khazi, but the Chaplain gave them a look and shook his head.  The rest

of the choir were mutinous and Charles was flapping around trying to calm them.  We shall

see.

     Miss you terribly.  Saw your Professor Tanner on Friday.  Asked how you were!

     Babyballs has made himself objectionable again.  Told me to shift myself as I was in

his way on the stairs.  Not quite in those terms.  He also told Charles he was a fucking fairy.

I didn't let on to Charles I'd heard that   But Babyballs is a bit big for me to thump and I

don't want to end up in Addenbrooke's just yet!

     Love Tris xxxxxxxxxxxxx'

     A week later:

               'Hi Most Wonderful.  Ivo and Adam have really fallen out.  Ivo thinks

Adam is being influenced by Pinch‑Bum.  P‑B has gone to town over the rift in the Chapel.

He's got a motion at the next meeting of the College Fellows proposing the closure of the

Chapel because of internal tensions which in his knowledge as an historian have never

occurred before even through periods of religious intolerance.   Ivo got that from Mrs Davies

the Chaplain's secretary.  She's Welsh but can't stand Drew.

     Adam is so pissed off with Drew he's more or less siding with P‑B and doesn't seem

to see that it's all a ploy.  Charles is distraught.  He said that P‑B should be cast into the

eternal fires of Hell, accompanied by much hand waving and NYK makes him pots of tea to

calm him down.

     I think we'll change Jason's name to Nick, except it's Dad's, but perhaps NYK suits

him better.  Charles refers to him all the time as naughty young Knott but Jason couldn't care

less.  He took all my rugger kit home for his Mum to wash as someone had fused the supply

to the students' laundry  and wouldn't let me pay anything.  He likes to chat and I've told him

as well he should do further study.   

     Oh, I forgot.  Confession time.  After the game on Saturday the rest went off to the

student bar but I didn't feel like another piss up.  Not used to so much beer.  Must be Dad

introducing me to wine which I prefer.

     Anyway.  Confession.  I wandered into town and went to that bar Adam took me to

the first Saturday.  Felt OK after initial butterflies going in.  That Davy was there.  He's

doing a nursing course and works at the big local hospital and I told him about you and me.

He said he understood.  He'd got no one at present but wouldn't intrude but was always ready

for a drink, a dance and a chat.  Felt a bit over dressed at first but got a good few stares when

I took my shirt off and danced with him.  He fended off one bloke who was a bit drunk and

kept asking me for a dance.  Then the leather chap appeared and told the bloke to fuck off

and he went off very quickly.  Leatherman asked Davy and me if we'd like a drink and Davy

said he knew his son as he'd been to school with him.  Both very nice.  Said they hoped I

wouldn't get too miserable without you.  But, anytime I needed to talk, or a quiet drink...

Felt safe.  Haven't told the others.

     With fondest love, Tris XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX (Big in case you don't approve.)

p.s.  Tell Microbe I look forward to seeing him half‑term ‑ and you too, of course.  More

XXXXXXXXXXXXX'

     If he was feeling lonely ‑ how was I?

     The next week:

               'Hi Treasure above the price of rubies.  That was part of reading

yesterday in Chapel.  Luckily Dingley was accompanying and all the choir were there.  Ivo

and Adam still not really speaking to each other.  NYK told me in confidence that the curtain

between their beds is pulled across the room permanently.  What can we do?  Charles is so

concerned.  However, two good things.

     Drew is visiting all the students and exhorting them to give their hearts to the Lord

and pressing various tracts on them.  Most of these seem to predict Hell fires for all sorts of

trivial sins.  There's a real beauty on the evils of masturbation which everyone seems to get.

Two of the rugger blokes caught him the other day just after he'd been to see someone on

another stair.  I heard they'd got their dicks out and asked him to show them what

masturbation was so they would know if it was the same as what they did four times a day as

they couldn't bear to be sinners.

     Then he went to see Babyballs the next day.  I don't think anyone had warned him.

Ivo said he was standing just inside their door when he heard Drew coming up the stairs.  He

knocked on Babyballs' door and when he answered asked him if he was saved and so on and

said if he felt he had sinned he should get down on his knees and ask the Lord's forgiveness.

     He must have given Bryce the wanking tract and Ivo heard him say that in his

experience this was a grave sin which all boys indulged in until the Lord entered their hearts

and Bryce should confess his sins as soon as possible because one never knew when they

might be called to judgement.  Ivo said he heard a scuffle plus a torrent of oaths and Drew

ended up on his back in the passage with a snowstorm of tracts, masturbatory, whatever,

around him and in a very dazed state.  Ivo said that he turned his other cheek and shut the

door as quietly as possible.

     So far, I haven't had a visit although he looked as if he was going to talk to me after

the service on Sunday.  He wasn't playing and we did a Tallis anthem and he looked sour the

whole way through.  If he does come I'll tell him straight, I'm gay and I wank at least three

times a day and I lust after his lithe young body.  Point one is true, point two is only if I feel

very, very horny thinking of you, twice usually and I do think of you both times! and point

three is completely untrue, he's a skinny little runt!  I almost typed the C word but I hope

Microbe has put a ban on such things in case they corrupt you!!

     The other good news is that P‑B is nursing very sore balls.  There was a dance in the

Students' Union on Friday and P‑B invited himself and asked a friend of Charles's for a

dance.  She's the friend of the Stage Manager Ivo told us about.  Her name's Alexandra and

she's very nice in a no nonsense way.  Anyway, she's not into men and P‑B started to make

certain suggestions and he invited her to go to his house for a drink.  He must have thought

he was on to a good thing except he went a bit too far and while they were dancing either

said or did something.  Last thing he knew was that he was carted off to Addenbrooke's and

Adam said he cancelled his tutorials this morning.  Ivo and Adam were there and heard he'd

been injured..

     I know about his balls cause it's confession time again.  I went to the club again on

Saturday evening and Davy said he'd been on duty at the hospital all night and was

knackered but he found the club woke him up.  I think Davy had had a few drinks before I

got there as he got all confidential and said he really shouldn't tell me but he'd been on duty

when this man ‑ must have been P‑B ‑ had been brought in swearing and shouting because

some bird had clocked him between the legs.  She had too, Davy said, as his knackers were

all bruised and swollen.  Davy laughed as he said it was the first time he'd ever held anyone's

tool without them getting a hard‑on.  Must be losing his grip!

     This set him off again and he told me several stories ‑ some about blokes coming in

with something stuck up their backsides saying they'd slipped in the shower.  Ouch, he's had

to help remove a hairbrush handle, he said the surgeon didn't dare ask if the hairbrush bit

was still at home, a big carrot and what looked like the first eight inches of a policeman's

truncheon.  All rather odd things to have in the shower, he said.  The best was a deodorant

stick which had 'Press up bottom' on its base and the bloke had taken it literally!

     We had a good giggle and then went looking for the leatherman.  He was with a

couple of younger blokes, all muscles and more leather and looked as if they were oiled ‑ not

drunk oiled!  Good blokes.  Told me to cheer up and I was to bring you in as soon as

possible.  Thought of half term but you'll have the two Microbes with you and although both

would be more than willing to snoop I'm sure they're underage!

     With all my love ‑ can't wait to see you.  Tris xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx'

     Half‑term came quite suddenly as far as I was concerned.  Microbe 1 and I went up to

Waterloo to collect Microbe 2 on the Friday afternoon and, my, he was into his growth spurt

with a vengeance.  He dwarfed Microbe 1 now, more of a large Bug, and Microbe 1 was

miffed.  I have no idea of the cavorting which may have taken place that night but the pair

were up eating breakfast long before I appeared.  I was chivvied as they wanted to be off so

we were at St Mark's in Cambridge soon after ten o'clock.  Old Albert was in the Porter's

Lodge.  He took one look at me and his gnarled face creased even further.  I think it was a

smile.

     "Good morning Mr Foster, I am pleased to see you." He peered at Frankie.  "You

must be Mr Francis Foster, the family likeness is there, the set of the eyes and the nose..."

     ".....and the big ears," said Laurent, stepping forward.  "Good morning, Mr Tomkins,

I am Laurent de Villiers," He put out a hand.  "I am very pleased to meet you.  I intend to

study here when I am older."

     "And if I am still here I shall remember you, young man," said Old Albert courteously

but, I thought,  rather put out by the added reference.  He looked intently at Francis.  "Yes,"

he said, "You are so like your father.  He came here in 1972.  It was our sexcentennial year

and we had plenty of celebrations."  He nodded.  "Yes, he must have been about your age.

He gave a recital in the Chapel.  Very well received.  I looked it up last night when Mr Price‑

Williams said you were coming today.  There were three boys, all sons of Old Markians.  Let

me see, Gordon Foster, violin, Peter Hazelhurst, clarinet, and Gregory Fawcett, piano.  The

other two were older and I didn't know their fathers but your grandfather went back to Paris

and was killed very shortly after I'm sorry to say."

     That was most interesting.  Dad had never said he'd visited the College!  I knew

Grandad had been knocked over as he crossed the road in Paris by a speeding taxi driver but I

hadn't known the year.  So, Dad couldn't have been more than fourteen when his father died.

Perhaps that had made him forget St Mark's?  I would have to ask Mum if she knew

anything, or, perhaps Grandma who was coming to visit us for Christmas.

     I could see that Frankie was also rather stunned by this news.  Any instant reprisals on

Laurent were forgotten for the moment.  "Thank you for telling me that," Frankie said most

politely, "I, too, want to come here to study.  I don't know what yet, but I'm determined to

work hard."

     Old Albert's face creased again.  He looked past us.  "Ah, here's Mr Price‑Williams

and Mr Fane‑Stuart.  I'll say good‑day to you."

     Charles entered first followed by a grinning Tristan.  He was in full spate, hands

raised, hair streaming, his short gown billowing. "Precious ones, you've arrived.  Sorry we

are late but we were just about to take coffee when that boy told us you had been sighted."

Charles thrust a hand out and I shook it and was nearly crushed by the weight of the rings.

He let go and turned.  "And you must be Francis, the fraternal likeness is quite apparent.   I

am so pleased you could come today, we have much to show you."  Another handshake for

the first of two very startled lads confronted by this very elegantly dressed young man with

the flowing mane of silvery hair and the ornamented robe and mannerisms, I was sure,

neither had experienced before.  "And you are Laurent, je suis enchante de vous voir.  Vous

demeurez a Lille, je crois.  C'est une cite je connais bien.  Bienvenue!"  Another crushing

handshake.  "Now, dearest ones, there is coffee and some slight sustenance across the quad

in my rooms.  Let us go and the other treasures will join us shortly.  Dear Adam has had an

extra tutorial this morning as his tutor..."  I noted no name!   "...has been somewhat hors de

combat since his unwise incursion into some student frolics."  He turned to Tristan who was

standing silently watching and listening.  "Tristan my dear, I will take the young ones and

you follow with Mark."

     The 'young ones' gave Tristan a hasty wave as they dashed after the hurrying figure.

Tristan almost gave me a welcoming kiss but propriety restrained him.  We just looked at

each other and smiled our greetings.

     "Come on," he said, "We'd better get there or those two will eat everything.  By the

way, I've booked a table for eight for twelve fifteen at a very nice restaurant in Bridge Street.

I've also had a nice cheque from Dad this week so it's my treat.  Oh, I've asked Charles and

also Dingley Dell, they're the other two."  He laughed.  "Charles can mesmerise the infants

and as you'll be taking over from Dingley I thought you'd like to meet him.  He's great!"

     "What's his proper first name.  I can't very well call him Dingley from the start."

     Tris laughed.  "Everyone calls him that, but he's David, really.  You'll like him, but

promise you won't just talk organs!"

     "There's only one organ......"

     "......Enough of that.  Later.  We'll send the urchins shopping.  There's a couple of

games shops they'll like.  Keep them occupied, while we...."

     "And what about Ivo and Adam?  Any change?"

     Tris's whole bouncy demeanour changed.  He became very serious.  "I'm very

worried about them," he said, "They barely talk to each other though they still always go

about together.  They often use me to give messages to the other and I think it's probably

only you who will make them see sense.  They're playing this afternoon that's why I've

arranged an early lunch.  Think of it, twins, playing on either side of the same scrum and just

about scratching each other's eyes out when they get worked up about you know who and the

Chapel."

     "I'll try, but I don't know what to say."

     "You will."

     We found the infants sitting demurely while being handed mugs of aromatic coffee by

naughty young Knott with Charles telling them all about the room and it's even more over

the top decor.  The two rather elegant windows now had ruched and tasselled heavy brocade

curtains and the dining chairs had been recovered in a similar patterned, very rich‑looking

fabric.  There was an oil painting of a very beautiful young lady prominently displayed.  Oh,

NO!  Had the boys asked yet who it was?  It was so obviously Clarissa!

     Ouch!  As we sat, with Charles fussing and Jason handing us mugs with his handsome

smile, so Frankie opened his mouth.  "Is that your sister?  Mr Stuart?"

     Charles was ready.  "No, my dear, it's a mere chimera, a whimsy conjured from the

fertile imagination of a very good friend of my Mother.  He is a superb artist but has these

flights of fancy.  Mother gave it to me as a birthday present so I hang it there in remembrance

of time passing."

     I wondered how much of those sentences Francis had grasped and whether Laurent

had sorted out what some of the words meant.

     Laurent was not fooled.  "It is like those pictures you have in there..," He pointed to

the door leading to the toilet.  "..I would say they were of you.  You act?"

     Charles laughed.  His cover was blown.  "Vous etes dans le vrai, Laurent.  Mais, vous

garderez mon secret, s'il vous plait."  His hands went to his lips.  Laurent smiled and nodded

     Francis had been following this exchange with great interest.  "Where do you act?"

     A finger went to the side of his nose.  "My little offerings are displayed here at the

theatre when we have a Footlights Revue.  But few know from where La Belle Dame Clarissa

springs, be‑jewelled, be‑decked and...," Here the hands were raised palms outwards and the

head, with half‑closed eyes was turned to the right and to the left.  "....and, so ravishingly

beautiful though I say it myself."

     I realised he was leading the lads on, but they were enjoying every moment.

     "Can I come and see your act?" asked Frankie with  real eagerness.

     There was a twinkling smile as Charles raised one finger and pointed it at him.

     "Most certainly you may, but I think you would have to be a little older.."  He raised

his hands again, closer together and at an angle.  "...And I may not be here much longer.  It is

my final year and I have yet to consult the Fates about my future.  Maybe..."

     The last word was left hanging.  Before Frankie could ask more there was a thump on

the outer door.  Jason went to open it and in came Ivo, followed by a short rotund figure with

Adam taking up the rear.  My cousins' greetings were somewhat muted.  Perhaps they didn't

want to display undue emotion but I sensed there was an underlying problem ‑ that which

Tris had told me.  Luckily Dingley took over and the conversation was turned to asking the

boys all about themselves. Then he took them with Adam across the passage‑way to show

them the rooms I would have if I was installed next year as his successor.

     I helped Jason carry something to the kitchen and was followed in by Ivo.  Jason went

back into the main room.  The bull by the horns!!  Now or never!!!

     "And when is this silliness between you and Adam going to stop?" I asked, "You're

worrying all your friends and from what I've been told it's really over stupid things this new

student is doing which sound no more than trivial in a place like this."

     "Tris has told you?"

     I nodded.  He really did look morose.  He shook his head.

     "We've never been like this ever since we realised we were two people as little kids.

We fight and argue but this is going on too long.  It's not really trivial to some people ‑ like

Charles for instance.  He sees all this as a way of destroying centuries of tradition.  I know I

got a bit shirty over the bike but that's trivial.  But this spat going on is not.  I want it to stop.

I want to be able to thump my brother, kick his backside, squeeze those little balls of his, tell

him he's a silly bugger and he do the same to me.  Fuck it, I nearly got sent off last week

because I was feeling so frustrated with the whole damn business I battered some poor sod in

the other team.  I feel lost, Marky.  I need help.  We both need help."

     I gave him a great hug.  My much older and, I thought, wiser cousin was almost

distraught.  His beloved brother and he were eating away at their so deep friendship.  How

could I help?

     We went back and waited for the others to return.  Frankie was grinning like mad.

"Four‑poster bed!  Wait till I tell Mum!"  But I think the pair of them were impressed.

     Adam then started telling an entranced pair of boys about Clarissa's last performance

as Elizabeth the First, who from the sound of it proved not to be so virginal, with three big

husky boaties as her half‑naked boatmen and two well‑muscled rugger types ‑ with over‑large

cod‑pieces from the general descriptions being given ‑ as Sir Walter Raleigh with a strangely

shaped pipe for his tobacco, and Edward de Vere, the farting Earl of Oxford.  Charles was

trying to shush him every time he made what could have been construed as a  salacious

remark.  In the end Charles was persuaded to get the photograph of the whole cast to show

us.  Wow!  The pearl‑encrusted headdress and the flowing gown must have cost a bomb.  But

what I feasted my eyes on and, would no doubt recall at prime moments, were the five

escorts who displayed their manly attributes to the full.  The two courtiers were in tight

doublets, puffed pantaloons, hose and curly‑toed shoes.  Yes, the cod‑pieces were immense!

The boatmen were in ragged shirts and knee length very ragged trews.  Nothing there was left

too much to the imagination as well‑filled jockstraps were much in evidence.  I just

wondered if they had been invented before 1570 or so.

     "Boys, boys, let us stop now," Charles was getting agitated as coming back from his

bedroom where he had returned the photograph he must have heard Adam saying something

about the size of Walter's pipe and the loudness of Edward's fart which set both lads off in

asbestos gelos ‑ inextinguishable laughter.  "I think we should move towards further

nourishment.  I understand the inestimable Tristan has secured a table for us at a most

favoured restaurant.  Jason, cherished one, lock up and take that delicious pate Mother sent

in that last parcel to your own dear mother.  As a sop to Cerberus you had better give the

other package to Albert.  I would not like him to think that there is any favouritism."

     The boys were on either side of Charles as we went across the quad to the College

gate.  Francis then commandeered Dingley while Charles chatted to Laurent in French.  Tris

had realised I wanted to talk to Adam so he and Ivo were soon in conversation about some

arcane rule of rugby football.  I lagged behind with Adam and decided a full‑frontal attack

was needed.

     "I understand you're being a bloody fool.  I know you act it sometimes but this has

been going on too long!"

     Without looking at me he said very quietly, "I know I am but what can I do.  Ivo will

only laugh if I say anything.  It can't go on...   ..I feel wretched.  It's all over nothing.  I think

we're just getting worked up because it's our second year and there's so much to do...  You'll

help won't you?"

     I don't know what induced me to say it but I couldn't bear to see my lovely and

loving cousins so upset.  "I'll tell you what.  I bet after the match this afternoon you'll go to

quite different showers or opposite ends of the bath.  When you get out, go straight up to him

dripping wet, give him a hug and just say 'I'm sorry'.  If you don't have a hard‑on each after

that my plan hasn't worked."

     He looked up at me with a sly grin and nodded.

     Lunch was a hoot.  We had plenty to eat and Charles insisted on stumping up for wine

for the grown‑ups which caused sneers from the infants who were then allowed a half‑glass

each as well as enormous glasses of Coca‑Cola.  I saw that Charles would have two willing

acolytes for any future extravaganza, probably based on Lucretia Borgia and the young

'nephews' of the Pope, who were most probably given to Michelangelo for painting the

Sistine Chapel, and would appear unclothed as pubescent putti ready for depiction on high! 

Stories of College abounded but I noted that the twins sat well apart and made their excuses

at about ten to two as they had to get to Jesus where the match was being played.  As Adam

bent down to pick up his sports bag which was near my feet I whispered, 'Good luck!'. He

nodded and grinned.

     We sent the boys off with a map to explore the city.  Strict instructions to be back by

half past four as Charles was supplying tea.  We four strolled back to St Mark's and I went

with Tris to his rooms.  We were in each other's arms, naked in bed, within minutes.  All the

kept dormant desires of the past few weeks burst out.  We clasped each other, we couldn't

get enough of feeling and manipulating each other's bodies.  Tris was just as I remembered

him.  I felt him all over from head to toe not only with probing and exploring hands but with

my tongue and nose, licking and tasting and smelling and storing all those sensations for later

reconstructions.  Tris was doing the same, he fixed on one nipple than the other, my navel

was probed with a wet, prehensile tongue, then at last after savouring all parts of each other's

bodies we found each other's sheathed and rampant shafts.  In concert those so‑sensitive

solid ends were uncovered as foreskins were enveloped in hungry mouths.

     I couldn't contain myself, my reflexes took off and Tris swallowed my load greedily

and within a minute or so I was fed my lover and companion's own copious boycream.  We

kissed and then lay quietly together gathering our not very depleted strength until with gently

duelling tongues our hands drew a second spurting creamy flow.  We ran our fingers through

the pools and rubbed the now sticky fluid into each other's bellies and into our bushes of

pubic hair.  We lay in each other's arms wishing these moments to continue for ever.  We

heard a few shouts from outside which woke us from our reveries as we realised a world

existed elsewhere.  It was just after four when we surfaced.

     We had to shower separately as the compartment was small.  I waited for Tris to wash

the to‑be‑remembered dried residues of our love away.  As he stepped from the shower I

knelt and took the length of his now quiescent tool into my mouth, then covered it with

kisses.  After my shower he returned my action.  'Until Christmas' he whispered as he stood.

     Dressed we went downstairs to Charles' set where the gas‑fire was turned up full and

the over‑decorated main room was more than pleasantly warm.  Charles and Dingley were

comparing notes as both would be taking Finals later in the academic year.  Dingley was also

reading Philosophy and was hoping to enter the Civil Service.  Like me, he saw music as an

all‑abiding hobby and had already lined up a post at a fashionable church in North London.

Charles said he was undecided.  Mother had a job for him but what would happen when she

retired or gave up the business?  As he waved his hands around in consternation I noticed he

had on a very ornate signet ring.  I thought it seemed familiar.  Perhaps he had been wearing

it last time and I'd forgotten.

     "That's a beautiful ring," I said.

     He stuck out his left hand as it was prominently displayed on his ring finger.  The

other rings seemed tawdry against it.  "I was rooting in one of  Mother's jewel‑boxes during

the summer vac for something new to wear and I found it there.  This one as well."  He put

out his right hand and indicated another, not so ornate, but beautifully chased with a Greek

style pattern.  "Mother won't miss them.  She has worn this one but I have never seen her

wear the signet ring."

     So, I hadn't seen it on him?  The thought niggled me.  Where had I seen a similar

one?  It looked like a big cat, a leopard or a cheetah engraved in the centre.  Possibly in a tray

of knick‑knacks in a charity shop?  But, no, it seemed too valuable for that.

     Just then a double thump on the door.  Laurent and Francis came in followed by Jason

with a cardboard box.

     "I found these young gentlemen as I was returning from Fitzbillies loitering at the

gate uncertain whether to enter.  They had been handed leaflets by Mr Penry‑Jones there who

has been haranguing passers‑by on Market Hill this afternoon.  He was most insistent they

should not succumb to evil ways.  He was about to turn them away saying that the College

had enough thieves and vagabonds without youngsters thinking they could break in and

burgle.  I told him they were visitors and he just turned and walked off.  Mr Tomkins is of the

opinion he should seek advice."

     "He must be mad," opined Frankie, "Have you seen this."  This was a gaudy, badly‑

printed tract exhorting sinners, in large letters, to abandon their evil practices, unspecified, so

they might be ready for the coming of the Lord.  "Look at this on the other side," he said

reading out, "'Young men, resolve not to commit those acts which weaken the body and

engender evil thoughts.  Maidens, put away thoughts which risk your holy role in life.  Guard

yourselves with care against those who importune you with unwholesome flattery.'  What

does it all mean?"

     I am afraid Laurent proved to be a little too literal.  "It says boys should not wank and

girls not to fuck about.  That is what our priests say, too!  Fucking rubbish!"

     We all gaped at Laurent.  Faultless English and faultless logic.

     Charles was the master of the moment.  "Well said, Laurent sweet, you are both

concise and correct.  Vous avez mis le doigt dessus!  That tract should be consigned to those

flames to which its perpetrators should also be condemned."  He took the pamphlet from

Frankie, screwed it up contemptuously and flicked it accurately into the centre of the flames

leaping up above the imitation coals of the gas‑fire.  "So I  commit these pernicious words to

the cleansing flame!  Now, Jason my treasure, set out your wares and when the handsome

pair appear we shall take tea."

       Jason disappeared into the kitchen closely followed by Frankie and Laurent intent on

helping.  The incident with the tract forgotten with the thought of more food.  The rest of us

just sat and heaved with silent laughter only to be interrupted by a further bang on the outer

door and two, almost tussling, laughing figures pushed their way in.  Adam was sporting a

rather large piece of sticking plaster across his nose and there was evidence on his upper lip

of dried blood.

     "Always said the silly fool sticks his nose in where its not wanted," said Ivo pointing

at the wounded warrior.

     "I'll stick something else where its not wanted, too!" said Adam.  "And who fumbled

that ball out of the scrum and missed a bloody straight run? ‑ twenty little metres and you'd

have been there! Cretin!"

     "Up yours, Boo‑Boo!  You weren't exactly twinkle‑toes when you tried that other run.

That was a disaster.  You practically ran headfirst into that dopey great oaf they had as a full‑

back.  Thought you were going to give him a goodnight cuddle.  No wonder he back‑handed

you right on the snout!"

     I sat and listened more than content.  My cousins were back.

     After tea when Jason had gone off to unspecified duties I helped Adam carry dirty

plates into the kitchen.  As soon as we set them down he grabbed me and kissed me full on

the lips.  We hugged holding each other tight.  "You've still got a bloody erection," I said in

his ear.  "Too true and I wouldn't mind if you took care of it!  Only joking!  I guess you and

Tris have...." He left the words unsaid as I reached down and felt his hard length.  "Ivo'll be

ready, too." I said quietly,  "Show him you love him so deep down that nothing could ever

destroy it.  OK."  He nodded.

     As we left to go out to the Backs to get the taxi waiting for us Ivo came up and

hugged me.  "Thanks, cuz, all's healed.  Just got one more piece of business to take care of

tonight."  He pressed himself against me.  His aroused state was oh, so evident, too.  I don't

think either would last long on any initial encounter.  I bet the second and third would be

even more intense and even more rewarding.  That curtain would be furled back in its

rightful place.

     The boys were tired and sleepy as we travelled back to London and I sat and

contemplated a day filled with happiness, of healing, of the continuation of commitment and

to new things to ponder and think about.  How would I ask Dad about Grandad and his

recital?  That ring of Charles's niggled.  That zealous student and the way he was stirring up

trouble.  My brother and his most intelligent friend.

     There was just one more thing.  When we arrived home and were about to recount the

happenings of the day to Mum, while waiting for Dad to come home, the pair took off their

tops and instead of the expected bare skin they had matching, identically printed tee‑shirts and emblazoned in large letters  'Winner of the Egg and Sperm Race'.

     "There's a shop near Magdalene Bridge prints them for you," explained Frankie.

     "Cool!" said Laurent.