13.  Through the rest of the year   Some of the Characters Appearing: Mark Henry Foster                             The story‑teller. Tristan (Tris) Price‑Williams             Mark's boy‑friend and well‑proportioned Francis Michael [Microbe] Foster      Alias Toad:  just growing and wondering Laurent de Villiers  [Crapaud]            French, growing and full of knowledge Gordon Foster                                     Father of Mark and Francis Maria (Angelica Matteoli) Foster       Mother of Mark and Francis Nicholas Price‑Williams QC              Father of Tristan Dilys Price‑Williams                          Mother of Tristan Ivo Richie Carr  [Mark's cousin]       At St Mark's:  chunky and cheeky with it   Adam Benjamin Carr                          Ditto, as his twin Bryce (Babyballs) McArdle  A sullen overlooked over‑muscled Aussie rugger player Brinley (Harry) Potter                        An unbright boatie and worried David (Dingley) Dell               The Augustus Pennefather organ scholar Oct '98‑Jul '01 Matthew  Thyssen              Another organ scholar ['99‑'02] studying English Drew Penry‑Jones                 A born again organ scholar  studying Natural Sciences Charles (Clarissa) Fane‑Stuart          The 'Servant of the Chapel' and Footlights star Albert Tomkins                                 A Head Porter with an elephantine memory Jason Knott                                       An Assistant Porter with long antecedents Mr Simon Finch‑Hampton        A two‑faced History don with a guilty secret 'Tory (Victoria) Machin    A good friend of Ivo's and a true bluestocking Letitia (Titty) Fanshaw    Adam's 'squeeze' Bernard Fanshaw                       Letitia's boatie brother and liable to squeeze Hon Jeremy (Tosspot) Foskett    A supercilious dilettante student who sniffs a lot Bradley Wolstencroft          A Detective Chief Inspector, a leatherman off duty [Brad] Dudley Woolpit            A Detective Sergeant, a leatherman off duty [Whippet; Dude] Carl Bachmann            A Detective Constable, a leatherman off duty [Carlo; Batman] Aubrey Fullerton QC                    A celebrity Law don

Some Notes:          Acronyms:  ARCM     Associate of the Royal College of Music LRAM      Licentiate of the Royal Academy of Music ARCO      Associate of the Royal College of Organists These three are performer’s or teaching diplomas.  The first two can be taken in a very wide range of instruments or in composition. FRCO       Fellow of the Royal College of Organists  - equivalent to a Bachelor of Music degree. FRCS       Fellow of the Royal College of Surgeons.  In the UK the great majority of medical practitioners hold Bachelors degrees in Medicine and Surgery and enjoy the courtesy of the title ‘Doctor’.  Those who wish to specialise in surgery then study for the Royal College of Surgeons examinations of London or Edinburgh, and when awarded enjoy the title of ‘Mister’.  This refers back to the time when medical practitioners generally held degrees in Medicine from the few universities extant in the UK in the 17th and 18th centuries whereas surgeons followed apprenticeships and were classed with barbers who performed such acts as bloodletting.  Hence the red and white striped barber’s pole.]

     I had puzzled how I might raise the issue of why Dad had never said he'd been to St

Mark's let alone given a recital there.  This was solved for me next morning at breakfast.

     We three boys had gone off to bed before Dad got home last night.  In fact, I'd just

had a slow, intensive wank thinking of Tris and my cousins and was lying in that

contemplative, drowsy state, with a pool of spunk on my chest being idly stirred before being

mopped up, when I heard his car enter the drive.  I wiped myself with a couple of my own

tissues and fell immediately into a contented sleep.  We'd had a most profitable day, the boys

had been introduced to a new way of life, I had met and loved my dearest friend and, very

importantly, wounds had been healed.

     I had promised Mr Prentice I would play for the 11.00 Mass ‑ Father Robertson

always insisted on calling it this though on the church board it was up as the Family Service ‑

and had crept out of bed about nine.  I could hear voices downstairs and realised that not only

was Dad up and about but Francis and Laurent were in the kitchen as well.  Of course, food!

And Francis would also be getting ready as he was in the choir.

     As I entered I saw Dad was busy preparing a tray for Mum.  A little Sunday ritual.

Mum liked breakfast in bed then.  He gave me a thumb's up in response to my greeting and

hurried off.  The boys were too busy chattering on to notice me until I wrenched the packet

of Cocoa Pops out of the Toad's grasp.

     "Do you not have the courtesy to greet your loving brother," I said, pouring a good

helping into a bowl.  "I give up a day of my life to entertain you and I'm ignored."

     "You are not ignored," said the Toad.  "We were just discussing whether to give you

your present now or later."

     "I think now," said the Crapaud.

     They immediately transformed into my little brother and his now bigger friend.  A

present, eh?

     Laurent indicated a small cubic box.  "It is for you.  We saw it in the music shop and

Ivo had given us some money to spend and so had Mr Stuart."

     I didn't know about the extra money.  I'd passed over a five‑pound note each on the

station when we arrived and were waiting in line for a taxi.

     "Open it, then!" said Francis.

     It was a small white bust of Bach.  I had seen these before in a big music shop in

London and had said to myself I would like one.

     "It is for your... manteau de cheminee..  I do not know."  He looked at Francis.  "C'est

au‑dessus du feu dans la cheminee?"

     Francis grinned.  "I think it's a mantelpiece.  It's where Mum has those vases in the

front‑room."

     I was touched.  "Thank you, " I said, "I'll put it on the mantelpiece in the main room

and look at it when I play that piano."  I reached over and touched them both on their hands.

     Dad came in just as this little ceremony finished.  He picked Bach up and inspected

him.  "I had Beethoven.  Someone gave me him after I gave a recital somewhere when I was

a kid.  I think your Grandma has it."

     "Was it when you gave that recital at St Mark's?"  Francis asked.

     I thought Dad was going to drop the bust.  He sat down heavily on a kitchen chair and

shook his head.  "I wanted to forget that but I've been reminded of it so often in the last year

or so with the twins and Tristan going there and now Mark.  I think if I tell you it'll clear

some bad memories for me."  He looked at us and I could see how sad he was.  "I was only

fourteen ‑ just like you Francis ‑ I was little, opinionated and thought I was the new Yehudi!

I was at school over here staying with Grandma's sister but I'd been over to Paris for the

Easter holiday and had some wonderful lessons with a French violinist and your Grandad was

so pleased.  The recital was scheduled for the second week of term.  There were three of us.

There was a clarinettist, but there was also Gregory Fawcett, who I knew from our Saturdays

at the Royal College."  He shook his head.  "He was my accompanist.  He was a marvellous

player and he and I played the Franck Sonata.  At fourteen that was so ambitious but I was

determined to do well.  I think I did.  At the end everyone congratulated us and your Grandad

was so pleased.

     "I went back home and he went back to Paris.  I never saw him again.  He was

knocked over and killed just two weeks later.  Then Gregory committed suicide the next

week.  Some foolish person had told him he'd never become a concert pianist.  He was only

eighteen.  I was devastated.  I said I never wanted to play again but your Grandma took me

back to Paris after the funeral and I played the Franck at the Embassy in memory of my

father and Gregory and I had more lessons and I decided to play again.  I'm afraid the

memory of seeing my father for the last time smiling up at me in the chapel at St Mark's

made me obliterate that occasion and I never wanted to hear of, or see, that place again."

     I looked at Francis.  The tears were running down his cheeks.  He got up and went

round and hugged Dad.  "I shouldn't have asked you that question," he murmured.

     "Yes, you should," Dad said.  "The Thugs are happy there and so is Tristan.  And

your brother will be there soon.  I was your age, Frankie, when all that happened and I

couldn't cope.  It was only because the teacher in Paris encouraged me I said I would play

again.  And I made the decision I wouldn't be a soloist myself, nobody told me.  I love

playing.  There's nothing else I would want to do and I have really enjoyed my life in

orchestras and, especially, when I've done some teaching."  He ruffled Frankie's rather

spiked‑up hair.  "You've got a couple of years before you have to make decisions.  Make sure

you think hard."

     "Uncle Gordon," said Laurent, coming round the table to stand by Dad, "Francis

would like to go to St Mark's and I will too when I have finished my university study in

Lille."

     "Early decisions.   Well it'll keep you working hard."

     It was my turn.  "Thanks, Dad, for telling us all that.  If Mr Tomkins hadn't said

about the recital we would have never known.  He said he remembered you very well and

that Francis was so like you..."

     "..Those ears," said Laurent with an impish grin.

     I would have to inform Crapaud of the theory that big ears and big feet meant bigness

elsewhere.  As Laurent had sweet little ears and I hadn't inspected his now growing

equipment I had no idea of his size but I was sure that Frankie would deal with him

appropriately and, although Laurent was now taller than him, I hoped he exceeded him in

that most vital dimension!

     "I promise I'll come up the day you go.  It'll exorcise any ghosts that remain!  And I

want to hear you play there, too." Dad said and he grinned.  "Now I need my breakfast.

Frankie, a lightly boiled egg.  Laurent, some toast, please."

     The two jumped up and set to with alacrity.  I finished my cereal, picked up Bach and

went up to get ready for church.

     So, one mystery was solved.  Dad had only now really come to terms with those awful

memories, losing his father and a friend in so short a space of time.  I wondered what I would

have done.

     Term went on.  Tris's e‑mails were arriving almost daily.  Little snippets of news.

Early on one had some quite momentous news.

               'Hi Thinking of you constantly.  It's happened at last.  I've been door‑

stepped by Drew the pest.  I think he must have got over his fear of Babyballs as a couple of

mornings ago he banged on my door and with his unctuous smile asked if I loved the Lord.  I

had a great urge to say something facetious but he was off ranting before I could think up

anything.  It was all about how he had conquered evil thoughts and deeds but had to guard

against them at all times and the only way... etc.,  etc.  I hadn't asked him in so all this was

taking place in the passage and I was hoping Bryce might appear and do a tumble‑down‑

Drew act again.  When he drew breath and fished out a tract I said as slowly and deliberately

as possible that I was gay, I had sex as regularly as possible with my boyfriend and I had no

intention of changing my life‑style as I was sure I had been born like that.  I don't think he

believed me at first so I said it was OK, I didn't fancy having sex with him even if he offered,

and shut the door.  As he doesn't have anything to do with the choir now I have seen very

little of him in chapel and he avoids me otherwise.  Thugs laughed when I told them.  They

have still to be visited but as their room is opposite Bryce's they think he'll give them a miss.

I think they've cooked up a tale as well in case he calls.  Must rush, gotta do an essay on

evidence.  Love Tris XXXXXXXX.'

     This was followed a few days later.

               'Hi, No salutation as I haven't got long and I must tell you this.  I think

the boatie ‑ Brinley's his name but everyone calls him Harry because his surname's Potter ‑

I've been going running with is on something.  He's worried anyway as he's got Finals this

year and he knows he's not very bright, but he's often either on a high or quite dopey. 

Anyway, this morning I ran round to his stair and his door was open.  I knocked but no reply

so I went in and he's lying on the floor in the main room, starkers.  I tried to wake him and

thought I'd better get him into his bedroom.  He was a dead weight, he must weigh at least

fourteen stone, so I tried heaving.  I was getting a bit hot so I took my top off so I was there

just in running shorts trying to get the big lug up with his nose buried in my crotch when who

should go past the door but Drew.  I remembered he lived on that stair.  He took one look and

I suppose all he could see was Brin's big naked arse with him apparently sucking me off.

Heaven forbid!  No, I bet he'd be good ‑ he's got big fleshy lips ‑ bet that set you off!!!!!

Drew yelled out something like Abominations!  And clattered off down the stairs.  I got Brin

sitting up and he came to a bit.  Then I saw there was a bottle of pills on the floor.  Some sort

of sleeping pill I think and there was also some white powder on a mirror on his chest of

drawers.  He said he'd be OK his friend Jeremy would be around later so I picked up my top

and said I'd see him tomorrow.  I think I'll consult the twins.   With permanent love ‑ and

something else permanent.  Tris xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx.'

     His next e‑mail said he'd given up running with Brinley  and on the twins' advice had

cooled the relationship  They said if he was snorting or doing any other drug he might be

thought to be involved if anything happened.  They'd told him Jeremy was a well‑known

ne'er‑do‑well who'd flunked every exam but was still around as the fees came in

nevertheless.  But, I knew Tris was worried about Brinley because he had a kind heart.

     His more or less last bit of news was that Clarissa had appeared as Marie Antoinette

in the pre‑Christmas show and he'd been roped in as chef de guillotine.  From the bits he told

me the poor woman was convinced the guillotine was only for men and really for a delicate

operation.  She couldn't make out why it was so big and had such a big chopper as Louis only

had a small chopper of the other kind and had never been guillotined as a baby, etc., etc.  He

said a row of rugger‑buggers were arrayed as the sans‑culottes and never had such a

gathering of ugly‑looking tricoteuses been seen.  A good time was had by all!

     Tris came home for the Christmas vac followed shortly after by the Thugs, complete

with motorbike, for their usual overnight stay.  They were battling over a new problem now.

Both had been after the same girl earlier in the term, but Ivo was winning.  His usual, 'Tory,

was spending most weekends in London so he was feeling  a need for further sexual release

according to Adam. Adam said her name was Vinny, short for Vindaloo as she was hot stuff. 

Ivo said her name was Vanda and Adam was only jealous and had to make do with pounding

his pud every night.

     "Fucking hell!" was Adam's response as they told me all this in the privacy of my

room, "He may be getting it regular but that doesn't stop him shaking the foundations every

night he's not trying to impress her with that four inch chipolata of his!"

     "Huh, what have you been measuring?  Your own weenie wienie?  Mine's seven as

you well know.  Isn't it, Marky?"

     I held up my hands with the index fingers about three inches apart.  As Ivo went to

thump me I managed to say, "I think Adam's giving you the benefit of the doubt!"

     "Fucking shut up, you!  Just because you're six feet of horse‑piss with a pizzle to

match doesn't mean you can join in without a written invitation."

     "Don't talk to the boy like that," said Adam, "He'll be getting more than you, other

than your right hand, during the vac.   I think Tris has been saving it up for you, Marky, and

last time I saw him in the showers you won't be complaining."  He grinned.  "Wow, one

hung bunny!  And that's both of you!  Fucking Hell!  Ivo's got nowt compared with the pair

of you."

     As both of them were also healthily endowed I knew all this was part of their on‑

going battle.  I waited for the next skirmish.

     "Stop getting the lad excited and tell him about Titty!  No, I'll tell him," said Ivo,

fending off Adam who was trying to clap a hand across his mouth.  "Behave yourself, you've

had your say.  It's my turn."  He held Adam's hand away and twisted his head towards me.

"He was getting all worked up cause I happened to be the better looking one and Vanda's

Swedish and likes big dark boys with equipment to match, so I was well away.  He started

chatting up this skinny piece ‑ you know, mousey hair, pigtail, buck teeth ‑...." The hand

came perilously close but he avoided it.  "...Anyway, he must have told her he'd got a dick

like a donkey and a Porsche in the garage so they went off back to her flat.  Poor sod, got

nowhere, she remembered her Gran's a Catholic and had made her promise not to bed a man

until the knot was tied, so there was Muppet here all ready and willing, hard‑on up to his

bottom pubic hair, and then her flat‑mate turned up.  It was her big brother, who's a boatie,

so he made his excuses and scarpered!   True!!"

     The last as Adam grabbed him and pushed him over my bed and they started the usual

wrestle.  "Not true!" panted out Adam as he held a struggling Ivo now on the floor.  "She's

not Catholic and I'm taking her to the New Year Ball when we get back."

     "The only balls you'll see are Bernie's when he holds you down and makes you kiss

his in penance for the rude suggestions you made to his sister!"

     "Ouch, let go, Pax!  Pax!"

     Two dishevelled objects rolled apart.  The magic word had been uttered.  I knew that

Adam would start the next round in retaliation for the clutching hand which had encircled his

own vulnerable, very lickable, orbs.  Having sucked on them when at the Villa I could speak

from personal experience! 

     A bit later he told me, in strictest confidence, he was very keen on Letitia, and her

brother was a good guy, and he thought Vanda was a flash in the pan ‑ a good lay but no

more than that.  He'd have to help Ivo find a steady if 'Tory didn't materialise.

     Tris filled me in on further details of his Saturday night adventures.  He was visiting

the Club quite regularly and Dave, plus Brad and his sidekicks, Carl and Whippet, were a

good little group.  He said Dave was very busy getting ready for his next lot of nursing exams

and just liked to relax for a drink and a chat.  They all said they wanted to see me, whenever.

He did say he kept it very quiet about his visits when back in College but he'd told Ivo again

who said he had to watch his back.

     All this was incidental to my schedule of events.   I took my ARCM exams before

Christmas and I thought I might pass.  No horrible errors, I judged.  Mr Prentice came with

me to the examination to help me with practice and registration and said he was quietly

confident, at least over my playing.  Wait and see.

     Christmas arrived in a flurry of present buying and Gran came up from Haslemere

where she lived ‑ quite near the Price‑Williams' cottage.  Gran was great fun and I and

Frankie spent quite a lot of time playing piano duets with her.  Listening to Frankie I was

most impressed at his increasing expertise.  We all went to Covent Garden for the Christmas

ballet and, as Dad was playing in the orchestra and got tickets, we all went to the Albert Hall

for a pops concert.  Then I had to settle down as I had the ARCO exams next.  These, I

thought were stickier than the others.  Mr Prentice said I'd done well again but I wasn't sure.

I got a bit flustered at one stop change and, as no general pistons were allowed, had relied on

remembering where a stop knob was.  I got it in time but I was afraid I might have lost the

rhythm.  'Rubato' whispered Mr Prentice, so when the phrases were repeated I emphasised

the change in tempo.  Can't always win I thought.

     All this was set against having my Tristan at home for a month.  I think we made up

for lost time.  I was seventeen and a half and according to the book on adolescence I was at

my sexual prime.  At nearly nineteen Tris hadn't started any sort of decline.  We sucked and

wanked each other almost every day when my parents and Frankie were out and on two

occasions we had time and opportunity for a long slow, loving fuck each.  As Tris's mother

was always at home except on Tuesdays when she played bridge and we could never rely on

Shelley being out, it was my bed on which we pursued our love.

     One afternoon we had just finished a more than enthusiastic wanking and sucking

session, three times each spread over about two and a half hours, interspersed with long chats

about our lives and happenings, when we heard Frankie and Jack arrive downstairs.  Luckily,

Frankie didn't come barging in when they pounded up the stairs as we were as usual, nude,

and must have stunk to high heaven having expended our liberal streams of spunk over each

other's torsos.  Tris had the theory that if massaged in, then the rampant hormones would be

absorbed and would increase the sexual output for next time.  When challenged on this, his

reply was always 'Prove it doesn't happen!'.  As sexual output seemed to remain at a

constant high level I said it was difficult to disprove as we were probably near, or at our

maximum.  I said that in mathematical terms our sexual output was asymptotic with the

curve almost reaching a maximum.  Tris said cut the mathematical bollocks and just exercise

our own a bit more!

     When we went downstairs Frankie and Jack were in the kitchen scoffing the usual

large sandwiches Frankie always made.  I noted, approvingly, that although Frankie had ham

in his, Jack had cheese and pickle.  Although not observant I knew the family kept to the

dietary laws and Jack was mother's pride and joy.  I thought, 'My son the doctor!'.  I could

quite see why he and Frankie were good friends.  They shared the same interests and I knew

both were super bright.  I'd helped Jack once or twice with his maths but he needed little in

the way of hints to grasp the work most effectively.  He was determined to be a statistician

like his father and I wondered if he and Frankie collected any interesting data..  I was

absolutely sure they were wank‑buddies as I'd noted a bottle of Mum's hand lotion tucked

behind the computer one day.  Uncircumcised boys don't need it and I didn't think Frankie

was worried about rough hands caused by washing‑up the dinner things!

     Tris had laughed when I told him and said he wasn't surprised.  Jack was a good‑

looking kid and if Jack had been the same age as me he might have ditched me when I was

fourteen!  For that he got a duelling tongue and a really fast, hard wank and the admonition

that if Jack could jack him off so magnificently he was welcome to him!  He reciprocated

and said he enjoyed that extra bit of skin on me as he could get his tongue under it, so all was

forgiven.

     As I went over to put the kettle on they both gave us what could be construed as

knowing looks.  We had obviously been discussed and Frankie did rather put his foot in it.

     "Didn't know you were in," he said, lying through his teeth.  "Couldn't hear you

around.  Where were you?"  He looked at Jack, who could hardly contain himself, and took

another great bite from the inch thick doorstep.

     "That's no business of yours," said Tris.  He turned and looked at me. "I had a look

for some lotion in your Mum's bathroom as I've got this rough patch on my heel where my

new trainers have rubbed and I couldn't find any.  I thought there was a bottle in the cabinet

before Christmas."

     "Yes, there was," I said, playing to the gallery and loving every moment.  "Haven't

looked in there for ages.  Amazing how quickly it gets used up though, there was a new bottle

only a few weeks previously and I saw it was half‑empty when I went to get a paracetamol

for Gran when she was here and I know Mum doesn't use it much."

     It was a study in fortitude.  Two fourteen‑year‑olds knew they had been rumbled.

They knew no remarks could be made about two older boys who they were certain had not

been discussing the higher realms of symbolic or any other sort of logic behind a closed

bedroom door.  Their countenances went from knowing to almost sheepish.  I would take a

little pleasure sometime by reminding the Toad that he would upset his eyesight, not just by

staring at the computer screen.  On the other hand, staring at the computer screen, and

wanking at the same time, must double the chances!

     Well, Tris had to go back to Cambridge and I had to wait patiently for my results.

Tris as usual was full of news in his e‑mails and an early one was rather odd.

          'Hi Most Wonderful.  Usual hurry as I must get an essay finished but Thugs

saw me today as they are worried about Brin the Boatie.  He's reading History and didn't turn

up for a seminar with P‑B his morning and one of the other students told Adam.  They were

going for a run just before lunch so went up to his rooms in their running kit.  Door was

unlocked so went in and rather a repeat of my experience.  He was flat out on the floor and

starkers as before.  Ivo said he put his ear to Brin's chest to listen to his heartbeat as his pulse

was so slow and Adam was massaging his legs as he was cold as well.  They heard a noise

behind them and there was Drew who must have seen the open door.  He took one look and

shouted out they were all sinners but they had been corrupted by the most evil one who took

delight in seducing the young!  He turned and ran out.  They assumed he meant Brin as he'd

seen him with me and had probably misinterpreted not only the scene but my statement that I

had sex with my boyfriend whenever.  They said it took some time for Brin to come round

and he wasn't too pleased they'd found him like that.  His friend Jeremy turned up then and

said he'd look after him so they left.  Adam said it was all rather fishy and if Drew knew

anything about seduction an erection was usually involved and Brin was too far gone and it

was just floppy!  I've kept out of Drew's way but he does seem to keep a wary eye on me

when I'm in Chapel.  Tell you more later.  Love, Tris xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx.'

     I was well into the swing of things in this my last term before my A Level exams.  I

was enjoying the Maths and Physics and was working hard.  As far as the Music was

concerned I seemed to have no great problems although I found the History component a bit

of a bore.  Then, within days of each other, two crested envelopes arrived.  With trepidation I

opened them as soon as the postman came.  Oh, joy!  I had passed both!  At the age of

seventeen ‑ the earliest age for taking the examinations ‑ I was now the proud possessor of

two qualifications that branded me as competent on my chosen instrument.  I had e‑mailed

Tris immediately I heard each time.  He must have spread the word.  E‑mails from the twins

and a letter, in the most beautiful almost Gothic script, from Charles.  There was a letter also

from the Chaplain noting his pleasure and that he had informed the Master of my success.

Mr Prentice was over the moon ‑ 'Fellowship next!' was his observation.  Frankie printed a

card which he stuck on my bedroom door ‑ 'Mark H Foster Esq ARCM ARCO'.  I took him

and Jack to the local Burger King where they stuffed themselves with quantities of junk‑food.

When we got home I gave Frankie a bottle of arnica 'for skateboarding bruises' and Jack a

bottle of hand‑lotion 'for.....' The looks they exchanged with each other told it all.

     One evening I'd worked  really hard.  I had gone through the chapter and all the

exercises on De Moivre's theorem and thought I had that in my head.  I kept thinking of Tris

though and went down for a drink and sustenance just after nine.  Mum was listening to

Radio 3 as usual and was reading the latest Ruth Rendell.  She waved it at me.

     "I'll let you off the treadmill a bit if you like," she laughed.  Homework was always

referred to as 'the treadmill'.  "Only a dozen or so pages and you can have it."

     I shook my head.  "I much prefer the old stagers," I said, "Give me Agatha or Dorothy

L, or someone like that, any time.  I'll have it though and put it in my collection of 'to be

read later' as I found one today I've been looking for and I'll read that first."

     She laughed.  Even the times when she cleared out books for the Oxfam shop I would

never let her have any of my precious considerable hoard of vintage detective stories.  In fact,

taking her books to the shop usually meant I picked up a copy of some well‑thumbed

paperback for tenpence or so.  My last haul at Christmas had included Jacqueline Tey's 'The

Daughter of Time' and a truly well worn copy of her 'Brat Farrar'.  I'd been absorbed by both

and had only just finished 'Brat' when Dad pounced on it saying he hadn't read it for ages

and needed something to wile away the hours between rehearsals and seeing another up‑

coming scraper for a lesson.  I want it back I said.

     "You must know every plot under the sun," Mum said.

     "It's not the plots," I said, "It's all the methods that intrigue me and the reasons, but

especially how they sort out all the clues..."

     "Sex, money and jealousy as major reasons, eh?" she said "Makes the world go round

in more ways than one."

     "Mum!" I said, laughing, "Saying things like that.  Frankie might wonder what we're

talking about." 

     She laughed, too.  "No, I know what you mean.  It's the little clues you have to spot to

unravel the mystery.  Like finding an empty packet of biscuits tucked under someone's

bedside chair....."  She stopped she'd seen something I hadn't.

     "Not me, Mum," came a voice at the door, "I put it under the desk!"

     "The criminal's confessed," I said as I turned and took hold of Frankie's arm.  He'd,

as usual, crept along without us realising it.

     He ignored my grip.  "What was that you were saying about reasons, Mum?"

     Mum never minced words.  "I said most reasons for doing things boiled down to sex,

money or jealousy, or all three."

     There was a few moments silence.  I said nothing.  I wanted to see how my growing

little brother would cope with a statement like that.  I let go and he came and stood by me.

     "I don't really know about the first," he said very seriously, "But I can guess that a lot

of things happen because of the second.   And people get jealous if they think other people

have more money or anything else than them.  It makes me wonder sometimes how people

think.  I pity those people who haven't got money because they can't get a job but there's a

lot of kids at school who are jealous and none of the kids at school are really poor."  He

shook his head.    "And it's not always the poor ones who are jealous.  There's lots of things I

would like but I don't get jealous and nasty."  He looked up at me.  "Shouldn't say this really

but someone's been pinching things from our lockers.  Stupid things.  Lucas Forbes had

football socks taken and Jeb Greenham had just his laces pinched  ‑ Oh, and Willy Fox had a

couple of old pens taken..  All stupid things."

     "Doesn't sound too much like jealously, just plain nastiness," I said, "Any clues?"

     "No.   Jack and I have watched to see who's not around at times but it's difficult so

we're going to find out a different way."  He laughed.  "If they pinch things, they'll get

pinched."

     He went over to Mum.  "Our lockers are near the top and we have to stretch up to

reach and they're easy to open, so we've set mousetraps in ours and if anyone opens them

and stretches and feels in they'll get pinched!  Just like that!"  He stuck his hands out and

flicked his fingers.

     Mum's face was a picture.  She didn't know whether to laugh or be stern.  I just burst

into song, "And the punishment fit the crime....."

     Francis looked up at me and grinned.  "That was what Jack said.  You lot gave us the

idea."

     Mum composed herself.  "Well, all I hope is you don't get the blame if someone gets

hurt."

     "Yes, Frankie, it's a bit drastic.  Almost like the old days ‑ setting man‑traps for

poachers."

     "Yes, we thought of that, but chances are they'll only set the traps off as we put a bit

of string there as well.  But it'll scare them, won't it?"

     We admitted it would but also, I said, they should look for clues and any pattern.

Were there any particular things about the boys who had had things pinched?   Were they

friends of each other?  Did the class have particular cliques?  Were there loners?

     I saw that Frankie was taking all this in.  "We'll have to think about that."

     Mum looked at him and smiled.  "Bed now, young sir."

     He nodded and went off out of the kitchen.  I said I would read a bit before I went up

and drew out my latest find, one I'd heard of but spied in the window of the Help the Aged

shop this afternoon, Edmund Crispin's 'A Moving Toyshop'.  I held it up.  Mum just

laughed.

     "I learned a lot of English and lots about England reading books like that," she said.

     Frankie and Jack's ploy worked.  I was in his room answering an e‑mail from Tris

when he returned from school with a triumphant grin on his face.

     "Guess what, we caught the bugger!"

     Language, young man, I thought.  But......

     "What's that?" I said clicking on 'Send' and then going to 'Sent Messages' to delete

the description of what I wanted to do to him next time we met.  That was not for Frankie's

eyes!  OH, Hell!  What would happen if Tris opened the e‑mail with onlookers in their

computer room?

     "Caught Wayne Ross with the trap!  We put Jack's new ruler in his locker and this

afternoon the trap was sprung and we heard Wayne had gone to Nurse with a bruised finger.

Anyway, we'd worked it out it was him pinching things but we needed proof.   He was

always asking to be excused and then Jack saw him snooping in one of the younger kids'

lockers and he said he'd mislaid a pair of shorts and he thought his brother had borrowed

them.  His brother's locker was nowhere near that one.  Then he asked to be excused first

lesson this afternoon and he didn't come back.  I don't think we'll be losing things again!"

     "Yes," I said, "But it's still circumstantial evidence.  He may have mistaken his

brother's locker.  He may have trapped his finger in a door.  The trap might have sprung by a

change of temperature.  And reasons?   Any thoughts on that?"

     "Too true," he breathed.  "Mustn't jump to conclusions."  He tapped me on the arm

and laughed.  "Bet the reason's sex!  But we can't prove it!"

     A couple of days later there was a rather startling e‑mail from Tris.

          'Hi Flower of the Forest as it's just gone Burns Night.  Big celebration with

the gaggle of Scots in College.  I got roped in to sing 'My Luv is Like a Red Red Rose' and

Charles arranged with Moss Bros near John's for a kilt and all for me.  Must say I looked

good!  Its not true as far as I'm concerned!  As it was, my underwear was inspected more

than once but Donald McKay was bent over the table and his bare bum was slapped by all!

Got really pissed on the gravy ‑ best malt from someone's uncle's distillery!   But story at the

moment is that Brin the Boatie has disappeared.  His friend Jeremy came round this morning

all concerned.  Had I seen him as we'd seemed to be friends as he'd liked running with me?

Said they'd been at school together and Brin had been his fag and now he owed him money.

I didn't enquire but Ivo said he guessed it was drug‑related.  I didn't know he was really the

Honourable Jeremy Foskett and Adam said he was known as 'Tosspot' because he belonged

to a couple of the drinking clubs.  Haven't really come across them but did see some Hooray

Henrys as Adam called them last Saturday evening.  Have to tell you ‑ Adam came with me

to the Club.  He's a good dancer and I wonder.....  He and Davy got on well and Whippet said

he'd look good in leather.  Brad and Carl weren't there.  Adam said I wasn't to tell Ivo.  So,

private!!  Love Tris xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx.'

       Next day:

          'Hi, Dreadful news.  Brin's dead.  Found in the river in front of the boathouses.  Don't know more.  Big flap on!  Tosspot came banging on my door at lunch‑time wanting to know what I knew.  He told me he'd been found.  Was f'ing and blinding saying he supposed he wouldn't get his money back.  I said if he was dead surely he should be more concerned about that.  He stalked off saying I'd better mind what I said.   Dingley told me Tosspot tries to make out he's the connoisseur of all.  He couldn't care less as his father is loaded.  His latest is that he wants to play the organ and Dingley has said he wouldn't take him on.  He does play, but badly so D says.  Must get down to some reading now as day has been disrupted.  Love and think of me when you..... Tris.  Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx.'

     I was stunned.  I found it difficult to comprehend the death of someone who was

probably not much older than me.  My impression was that Tris was also rather shocked as

well as his e‑mail was much shorter than usual.  He had been a sort of friend.  It was

someone he knew ‑ I was going to say intimately, he had seen him naked and Drew had

thought... ‑ but Brin was someone he had shared an interest with, even if it was just running.

He must have been upset that such a thing could happen so close to home, as it were.  I

wanted to be with him and those thoughts kept welling up but I was also really engrossed

with my final burst of studying.

     Although things were going smoothly as far as the Applied Maths and the Physics

were concerned I realised I was trying too hard with the Pure.  As soon as we worked a proof

or were shown a rider I wanted to go further.  If Brin had been on drugs then Maths was a

drug for me.  I showed some of my workings to our Head of Maths who laughed and said I

should keep to the syllabus until Jimmy Tanner got hold of me.  He'd work my brain to the

bone!  But, OK, my reasoning was good if a bit ponderous at times.

     When I got home the next day Frankie was on the computer but said as soon as he'd

saved his game I could go on‑line.  I said he'd better do his homework then and he chuntered

on about nasty big brothers so I threatened to take his trousers down and tan his bare arse

more in jest than anger.  'You and whose army?' was his retort.  Then he said 'like that

Donald McKay got'.  He fell silent.  The Toad had been reading my e‑mails!!  I did leap on

him and had him over the bed squawking like mad.  Luckily Mum was out.

     "Confess!"  I said, "What have you read?  I'll count to three and if I don't get the

truth you'll get tanned even though beating small children is illegal!"

     He thought my threat was genuine.  Beans were spilled.  He'd only read the Burns

Night one.  It was my fault, he said, I'd left my e‑mail box open.  Truth, he said, I only read

that one.  He heard me coming along the landing and had shut it down and couldn't get back.

No, he didn't know my password.  I think it was all genuine.  I let him up.  He looked at me

with sorrowful eyes and shook his head.

     "I promise it's true.  That one was just funny.  Tris in a kilt and being drunk.  I'd like

to see that!   But is that student really missing?"

     "He's dead," I said.  Frankie gasped.  I knew what he'd told me was true.  He hadn't

read anything since.  "I don't know anything else.  Perhaps there's something if Tris has e‑

mailed today."

     "Promise I won't look," he said, "How horrible...."

     He came over and saved his game.  I clicked on my icon and put in my password and

then clicked on the ISP icon.  While I waited I opened Outlook Express and as soon as the

sign came up I clicked on Send/Receive.  There was nothing.  I typed a desultory greeting

and sent it.

     "Try later," said Frankie.

     While Mum was in the kitchen preparing our evening meal I told her about the e‑mail

I'd received about Brin being dead.  She said I'd better check later to see if there was a

message.  Frankie, who seemed to be shadowing me, said that was what he'd said.  Of

course, as soon as we'd eaten Frankie was up the stairs calling on me to follow.  We logged

on and he sat on the edge of the bed as I opened Outlook Express.  I had mail.

          'Hi Only just got in to send this ‑ no work done this afternoon.  When I got

back from the lecture this morning there was a note in my pigeon‑hole that Detective Chief

Inspector Bradley Wolstencroft would call on me at two o'clock.  While I was reading this

Old Albert was telling one of the dons that the post‑mortem showed there was evidence of

drugs and he'd drowned probably as he was doped up and fell in.  After the don went I

showed the note to Old Albert and he said I ought to see my Moral Tutor straight off but he'd

gone up to London.  I said I'd talk to Ivo or Adam and he agreed, they had their heads

screwed on, he said, but the College didn't like the police snooping though his own brother

had been a constable and had always done his duties quietly.  I didn't feel like lunch but

Adam made me tea and gave me a couple of scones and said he would wait with me.  Ivo

wasn't there as he'd gone to the Library,  Surprise, surprise!  The Chief Inspector turned out

to be Brad the Leatherman and his Sergeant was Whippet ‑ Sergeant Dudley Woolpit ‑

apparently pronounced near enough Whippet in Suffolk where he comes from.  Good job

Adam was there and not Ivo as they greeted us like long lost brothers.  They wanted to

interview me as Jeremy had been to identify the body and had told them I knew Brinley as I

went running with him.  I said I had but had given up after I found him passed out.  Adam

piped up and said he and Ivo had found him in the same state.  The DCI ‑ mustn't call him

Brad in this ‑ said he had a large dose of  sleeping pills, plus evidence of cocaine, in his

system.  They thought he'd gone out running late at night and had collapsed into the river

because he would have lost consciousness when the sleeping pills acted.  He did have a large

skull wound which was consistent with falling over the edge and hitting his head on an iron

rail or the concrete.  They seemed satisfied with my tale and they asked Adam and me to go

to the station tomorrow to sign statements.  The DCI went out with Adam and Whippet said I

wasn't to worry and see you Saturday!  He's a very handsome man and dresses well ‑ nice

suit.  If it wasn't for you I think I could fancy him.  You'll like him. That's a confession and

the truth.  Can't stop thinking of you, though, with all my love, Tris xxxxxxxxxxxxxx.'

     Frankie was all ears as I summarised the gist for him, leaving out the juicy bits about

Tris's Saturday excursions and who he met. 

     Next afternoon Frankie had everything set for me just to enter my password. 

          'Hi I must think up things to start with but it's been hectic again.  Ivo insisted

he came with Adam and me to back up Adam's story.  Of course I had to explain who the

DCI and Sergeant were and Adam did say he'd met them, too.  Ivo looked slightly miffed.

They're an odd pair.  Anyway, we were taken along to the DCI's room by, guess who,

Constable Carl Bachman, the third of the leather trio.  Turns out Ivo has met him, officially,

as he was on the Rag Committee last year and Carl was liaison officer.  He went to Oxford!

Did PPE, explain later.  Read through statements and from what little I know about police

procedure they seemed OK.  General statement that we knew him and had helped him when

found in a comatose state.

After we'd signed DCI said that when they searched his room they found almost a gram of

cocaine hidden in a shoe and two bottles.  One with a chemist's label on and they'd found the

prescription form for temazepam.  They would be checking on that.  But, the other bottle was

plain, no label.  What had I found?  I said the bottle I picked up definitely had a label and I

was almost sure it had something beginning with T on it.  He then asked if I would mind

having my fingerprints taken to check on the bottles.  I said I didn't mind as I had seen only

one bottle.  Quite a business with all the inking and pressing.  Assured they would be

destroyed once checked.  All most distressing.  I miss you and want you here to be with me.

Love me for ever as I love you, Tris xxxxxxxxxxxxxx.'

     On Friday evening was an even more sinister turn reported:

          'Hi My One and only Marky.  This afternoon I was in my room and Carl the

Constable came.  He wasn't in uniform and brought the fingerprint form which he gave me.

He said my prints were on the labelled bottle as were the chemist's and Brinley's.  Only

Brin's were on the second bottle which he said was odd.  They thought it had been wiped

clean at some time.  Also the pills in there were a barbiturate called Luminol and were rarely

on prescription.  Had I heard of them or knew where he got them.  I said I hadn't even heard

of Luminol but I'd heard about barbiturates.  He asked if I knew of any hard drug use in the

College and I said I didn't but I'd guessed Brinley might be a user as he was alternately low

then high and I had seen white powder in his room.  He said they'd had that analysed and it

was cocaine.

He was very chatty after that and asked how I was liking Law and did I intend joining the

police as I would be fast‑tracked.  He said he was just finishing his probationary period and

was going on to further study after the summer.  Oh, PPE is Politics, Philosophy and

Economics and he got an Attila!  Arranged to meet up tomorrow.  Playing first. Thugs are

short in their team so am number eight between them!  Glad Babyballs will be on our side!

He got rat‑arsed so Adam said last Saturday night and bumped into Drew who ranted on that

he was evil and an abuser of his God‑given body and Drew ended up in the fountain.

Reminds me of that hymn There is a Fountain Filled with Blood as Drew had a bloody nose

so Adam said.

P‑B is proving more of a pain so Ivo said as he's lobbying hard for the Chapel to be closed.

He's now on about Health and Safety as he says the structure is unsound.  Dingley said that

Drew seems to spend a lot of time praying in the Chapel and it puts him off practising

knowing he's there.  Charles wrings his hands and says he wonders what will come of all of

it.  Must talk to Jason but he's been away with flu or something.  Trust me tomorrow ‑ think

of me playing and then going to the Club..... I promise!     Love Tris xxxxxxxxxxxxx.'

     What was I to think.  He would be enjoying himself on Saturday evening...  And I

would be at home wondering.... ...and wanking!  No!  At breakfast Dad had two tickets in

front of him.  Concert at the Festival Hall for tonight.  Did his two sons want them or had

they better things to do?  We went!

     Further e‑mails said that there was an inquest and accidental death was recorded.

Tris said Carl had let slip that the police weren't satisfied.  Too many loose ends.  Tris had

had another barney with Tosspot who wanted to know if he'd pinched anything from Brin's

room as valuable property was missing.  Tris said he got the impression it was more drugs.

He said he was minded to drop Tosspot in the shit by telling Carl or Whippet but he had no

proof.

     He said Babyballs had more or less flattened Drew again.  Apparently Drew and the

third organ scholar, Matt Thyssen, were having a stand‑up row outside Hall one lunch‑time

about Drew's interference with the music in the Chapel and he'd had his group practising

when Matt wanted to practise as well on the organ as he was preparing to give a recital.

While they were arguing Bryce came up and Drew stepped back and elbowed him.  Bryce

called him a skinny‑arsed Bible‑thumper plus a bit more then barged him out of the way

ending up by saying he was probably as big a poofter as that other one.  Matt said he

obviously meant Charles and they hadn't passed on that insult but someone else had told

him.  Charles was upset and cancelled the next performance he was scheduled to do, much to

Ivo and Adam's annoyance as they were to be participants with Adam as Clarissa's Adam to

her Eve and Ivo as a near‑naked importuning snake and most of the Rugger XV, including

Tris, as beasts of the jungle with animal heads and furry tails and little else other than painted

patterns on their skin.

     So Easter came and Tris was home.  I was still at school the afternoon he arrived but

when I went up to my bedroom as soon as I had hurried home he was lying there, nude,

ready, with seven candles burning and scenting the air.  The door was then locked to keep

any inquisitive Toads out and I fucked him slowly and wondrously giving him, and receiving

back, all the love, warmth and radiant adoration both of us had missed for so long.

     So began almost a month of such affinity before we were parted again.  I had been

worried before Easter about my exams and Tris had his first year exams to contend with.  We

sat together and swotted, then we had sex and swotted again.  A perfect combination.

     Just before he went back my life became really hectic.  Exams, exams and more

exams!  Doing Applied Maths and Physics meant the Physics was helped considerably and I

wasn't too worried about either of them.  I got stuck on one Pure Maths question but realised

I had copied down the wrong set of indices and spent time puzzling.  As soon as I checked

and spotted my foolish error the proof needed wasn't too bad.  I wondered if I was a little too

blase about the Music.  Here was I, more qualified than a mere A Level in Music, two

professional diplomas in my hand.  It was the History of Music again.  I mentally gave myself

a couple of clouts round the head and in the end was pleased with that paper.

     Tris had only been back at St Mark's a week or so when another bombshell hit the

college.

          'Hi, All Hell's let loose here.  Babyballs Bryce was found this morning by a

man and his dog face down in a very muddy ditch out towards Grantchester.  He should have

been taking one of his Finals papers this afternoon, too.  I heard all this from one of our

rugger lot a minute or two ago as they've all been questioned about when last seen.  Don't

know anything else but Charles is also upset about something.  Flaps about weeping and he's

got Finals this week and next.  Sorry ‑ I should have said how much I'm missing you and I've

got a paper to do tomorrow.  Must go, All my love Tris xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx.'

     I read through the e‑mail twice before it hit me.  Bryce was dead!  And Brinley had

died the term before!  It sounded to me as if that college was a dangerous place!  Tris was

worried.  I knew it was more about his exams than anything else.  But he'd played rugger in

the same team as Bryce and that meant something even if Babyballs was an uncouth, bigoted,

homophobic, overdeveloped male.  Huh, overdeveloped in body but not in balls!  I wondered

if that was why he was so homophobic.  But it might have been his whole background.  I just

didn't know.  He'd upset Charles with his comments and he'd ranted on at Drew accusing

him of being a homosexual as well.  I wondered what he might have said if he knew about

Tris who had played in that same team and had even showered together with him?

     Two days later there was more horrible news.

          'Hi I'm too upset to send pleasantries.  Charles has been taken in for

questioning.  Apparently those comments I heard weren't the only occasion that Bryce had

said things to him or about him.  As two other occasions were in the presence of others word

got to the police and Charles was heard to say that someone would get him one day.  The

post mortem showed he'd been poisoned but actual death was due to all the dirt and mud

which got into his mouth and nose when he landed in the ditch and so he couldn't breath.

We've been told the poison was strychnine and all our rooms have been searched especially

all us on Stair F.  Adam and Ivo had to calm both Matt and Charles.  The police  found a load

of porn in Matt's wardrobe ‑ male/female so Adam said.  Some Constable threatened to tell

the Dean if he didn't confess to killing Bryce.  Matt was distraught ‑ he told the twins he only

looked at it to wank over.  He's such a nice guy.  Unfortunately we don't know which

Constable.  I was interviewed by Whippet and I told him.  He said he'd check but it sounded

like some over‑zealous erk who was hoping for promotion and they were certainly not

interested in a lad and his wank‑mags!

Whippet asked if I'd heard anything that Bryce had said and I told the truth. He said Bryce

had accused several of the students of homosexuality but as far as he knew the others had

more or less ignored him.  So Charles wasn't the only one, but he had hinted that someone

might one day...   I feel really bad about Charles as I feel I've helped to condemn him.  But, it

would be on my conscience otherwise.  You understand don't you?  Say you do.  I feel

wretched.... Can't write any more, Love, Tris xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx.'

     I sent an immediate message.  I felt Charles was too good a person to do such a thing

but Tris had been right to tell.  He was going to be a lawyer and I said he had to be truthful

and I loved him even more for that.

     Mum realised I had more on my mind than exams so after Frankie had gone up to bed

I told her the whole story.  She said that whoever could do such a thing must have a motive

of some sort.  I said we knew he was homophobic and accused people left, right and centre

but Charles was the obvious target for his gibes and the obvious suspect because of what he'd

said.  Dad came home then and I had to repeat the whole story.  He said that there must be

more.  How was the poison administered?   What was the lethal dose?  Why was he out

towards Grantchester?  Anyway, he said, he expected a College as old as St Mark's might

have strychnine lying about as it used to be used as rat poison.

     I went up to bed very worried.  Tris was upset as his story had been part of the cause

of Charles being questioned.  'Taken in'.  Did that mean he'd been arrested?  And Tris had

said Charles had been upset about something before Bryce was found.  Was there a

connection?  I tried to put these things out of my mind and just concentrate on my Tris.  I

fixed that usual image of him, his lovely toned torso, his flat stomach and that trail of fine

dark golden hair leading down to.....  That was as far as I got before my love for Tris erupted

and sprayed all over my own bare torso.  I took up several fingerloads and tasted my own self

and offered it in my mind to Tris.  I smiled and slept.

     I just had two more papers to do and spent the next day at home revising quietly in

the Shed only emerging for bouts of sustenance and one session of relief before boredom set

in.  No, I lie.  I kept thinking of Tris and what can you do with a perpetual hard‑on?  At half

past five I'd had enough ‑ not of pleasant relief but work ‑ and went indoors and up to

Frankie's room to check on e‑mails.  He was lying on his bed and had been crying I could

see.  What was up?  He said he'd been playing cricket and a stray ball had caught him at

square leg, I mean, straight between the legs.  I wanted to laugh but knew from experience

that even a slight tap to the balls was so, so painful.  He'd still got his cricket whites on so he

must have been hurt not to have changed.

     "Shall I have a look to see if there's any bruising?" I asked.

     "You'll only laugh if there is, but it hurts!"

     "Come on, big brother won't laugh ‑ not even at your two inch tiddler!"

     He did try to laugh between sniffs.

     "You'd better take them off as you know where it hurts," I said.

     He moved over and undid his trousers ‑ new whites with a draw‑string at the top.

     "Have you got one of those cups?" I asked.  I'd never had one as I nearly always

managed to get out of playing that most boring game.  Tris, of course, loved it and was a

good batsman and went out to the wicket always with a protective cup guarding his vital

parts.  Even so, he'd been hit square on it one day and said that hurt as the cup banged into

his belly and groin.

     Frankie sniffed.  "No," he said, "I need one if this happens.  I like cricket."

     Oh well, chacun a son gout, and I thought I knew how to help.  He was pulling down

his trousers and his pants as I spoke.  "I guess Tris has one in amongst his old cricket things.

I'll ask Auntie Di if I can have a look.  Knowing him he probably had more than one and I

haven't heard if he's playing cricket for the College this term.  He's probably got a miniature

one he had when he was about eight ‑ should fit you!"

     Even in his hurt state little brother managed to raise two fingers at me.  And I was

wrong in my snide estimation.  Wow, my fourteen‑year‑old little brother was growing fast ‑

at least in one area of his anatomy.  His cock was not the old two‑inch tiddler but was now

longer and plumper and his balls were quite saggy.  The left one was a bit redder than the

right.  He'd been a little bit bruised.  Nothing much but the bang had been sufficient to cause

a good deal of pain.

     "If I were you," I said, putting on a knowledgeable big brother air, "I'd put a cold

compress on that.  Wring out a flannel in cold water and hold it to it.  Come on, slip those off

your legs and we'll do it in your bathroom."

     Obediently he followed me and the deed was soon done.  A look of relief was on his

face after the initial shock of the cold.

     "I'll stay here and keep doing it," he said, "Thanks!"

     Anything for little brothers with sore balls.  Especially with balls that size!

     I went back and switched the computer on.  I had mail.

          'Hi   Thought of you for ages last night to get relaxed ‑ only happened once

I'd....  (Fill in blank space, my angel).   I did sleep but fitfully as news was even more

startling.  Whippet came to see me during the evening.  Really I think because he was

concerned about me ‑ he's a really nice guy, you'll like him.  He said the pathologist had

done more tests and had come to the conclusion the poison had been administered by putting

it in the gelatine shells used for vitamin pills.  Apparently, one of BB's pals ‑ he did have a

couple somewhere in the woodwork ‑ said he took vitamin pills by the handful and was

always at the health shop near Drummer Street bus station buying them.  Whippet said they

had found a plain canister which was half full and three empty health shop ones.  There was

a cardboard box addressed to him which could have held the canister but there was no other

address on the box and it had gone off to the lab for testing.

Good news is that Charles is back and OK.  Jason's been looking after him as there is

something else worrying him and he's in the middle of Finals.  By the way, Mr Fullerton says

I'm OK.  I passed everything though that's on the QT until examiners have announced it.  Ivo

and Adam are fed up and I'm afraid they've teased Matt about the mags.  He's not speaking

to them.  Dingley's gone to stay with a friend who's in digs as he's doing Finals as well.  Too

many upsets all round.  I'll be so glad when this is all over.  With fondest love yours ever,

Tris xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx.'

     I sent a message telling Tris a Microbe was mutating and had pronounced swellings

which had become slightly more pronounced after the application of a hard ball and there

was now application of coldness to reduce the said extra swelling and could the Microbe

borrow an appliance to protect his swollen swellings in case of future hard balls.  I also said I

too was worried, not only for him and the others but that such a thing should happen to

anybody, even someone so obnoxious as Bryce.

     My last exam was the next afternoon so in the morning I went to see Auntie Di to get

permission to rummage through Tris's unmentionables.  Oh, wow, under a pile of washed

and clean undies and tee‑shirts there was a bump in the paper drawer liner.  I snooped, I felt,

I contemplated, I withdrew ‑ a copy of Gay Times!  He'd never told me he'd got a copy!  It

was mine now.  But how to smuggle it out?  As luck would have it I had on a really baggy

tee‑shirt so tucked the mag in the top of the cargoes I was wearing and it was hidden.  I found

a cricket cup and a smallish jockstrap, both of which I felt Tris could donate to the teenager

who idolised him, in exchange for withholding from me the existence of something most

interesting to read and learn from.  I had noted however it was over a year old!

     Before going off to school I left the gifts from Tris for Microbe on his pillow and

tucked my gift from Tris under my own clean underwear in my chest of drawers and sent an

e‑mail noting that someone seemed to have had gay times before he went to College and I

hoped any gay times might be kept until I saw him and that I had filched something to protect

little brother's vulnerabilities..  A good morning's work and I was in a much happier mood as

I tackled that last Physics paper.  The thought struck me as I came out of the examination

room ‑ my school days are over!  Here I was just eighteen and no more school!  Just that wait

until the results came out in August, then the prospect of three years at Cambridge.  I felt

both sad and happy.

     Then more news:

          ' Hi Precious one ‑ sounds as if I'm mutating into Charles just as Microbe is

mutating into a monstrous carbuncle, no doubt.  He can have the cup and jockstrap with

pleasure ‑ he can model them for me when I get home. Better not tell him that!  And that GT

was given me by Sammy Patel ‑ said he swiped it from his father's shop ‑ sorry I forgot to tell

you ‑ I poked it under the paper and forgot about it!

More news.   The inquest was very sombre.  I didn't go.  The verdict was death caused by

person or persons unknown.  The plain box had two pills amongst the others which had

dissolved strychnine in them.  They think the vitamin goo was sucked out with a hypodermic

syringe and the strychnine poked in the same way and then the hole blocked.   The other pills

were best quality only got from good chemists not from health shops.  Whippet came to see

me again and told me that  ‑ I hope he doesn't fancy me, but he's such a buff guy especially

when Davy dances with him.  Adam came down while he was with me and they had a long

chat.  I have the feeling that Adam is bi.  There, I've said it.  He said he envies you and me.

Anyway he says he's very fond of Letty ‑ he won't call her Titty like her friends do ‑ and as

long as her brother keeps out of the way they have it as often as they can.  But there's

something wistful about him.  Ivo's back with 'Tory ‑ she's nice.

Charles seems a little more himself.  He's worried in case he hasn't done as well as possible

in his Finals.  His news is that no one has applied to be Servant of the Chapel for next year

because of all the hooha so the Master has asked him if  he would continue and register for a

BPhil.  He wants to do it on the records kept by the Servants as he says there's lots of juicy

bits.  As it is History and Chapel the Chaplain is going to supervise him.  That'll be one over

on P‑B!

May Ball next.  Charles is planning an extravaganza for that ‑ the Eve one that got cancelled.

He says I am definitely in it!  Pray for me!!  With all Love Tris xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx.'

     As a farewell to school the whole of the Upper Sixth were going out for a meal on

Saturday and a pub crawl.  I cadged some money off Mum as my bank account was getting a

bit low and that was the first, and only time I vowed afterwards, when I would get rat‑arsed,

pissed, slaughtered, plastered, legless, you name it, as I came to, with about ten others on the

floor of Ryan Midgley's garage as his mother wouldn't let us in the house.  All he did was

alopogise, agolopise, alogopise ‑ whichever way he tried it, it always came out wrong so

between roaring our heads off, burping, farting and feeling very, very sick we hunkered down

on some old camping mats and snored the night away.  If that was enjoyment, count me out,

though we all kidded ourselves we had never felt so good.  We had endured a rite de passage

‑ perhaps not so painful as the rather public circumcision of Nigerian boys I'd witnessed on

television ‑ but something which marked us as young men ready for the next stage in our

lives.

     When I staggered in Mum took one look, prescribed two codeine and bed rest and I

slept the Sunday away.  All I heard that evening when I emerged was the Toad boasting that

he'd played for the first hymn at Mass and old Mrs Springate had given him five pounds

because he was so good.

     Tris's first year was winding down.  Charles had got over some of his worries and,

now there would be no more homophobic jibes, Clarissa did star in 'All about Eve' at the

final revue of the year and the animals brought the house down with their imitation of the

ballerinas in Swan Lake as the finale, with Tris as a delightful Pooh Bear.  More bare

according to him. When Adam  and Ivo appeared on their trek home Ivo said he knew now

what a dick must feel like stuck in a johnny as he had been encased in a very tight rubber suit

in his part as the snake.  Apparently the other thing which amused the populace was that

Adam's fig‑leaf had a small motor behind it so it rotated at various speeds ‑ remotely

controlled by Annabelle ‑ according to the level of arousal dictated by the script.  As most

was ad‑libbed there were times, so Adam said, when he felt he might get burnt balls from the

heat of the little motor as it revved rather erratically.

     Ivo was off to France for his usual three month stay to improve his, now very fluent,

French and Adam was going to work on a building site in Wales for a friend of their father

who was a property developer.  "Muscles and money," he said.

     We would all meet up at the Villa as Tris and I would fly out as soon as Frankie

finished his school term and with Frankie returning at the beginning of September we four

older lads would stay on for September as well.

     There was one last bit of information which Ivo imparted before they went off home.

He'd found out what Charles was concerned about.  Apparently, he'd been sifting through

Mother's jewel boxes again and had found a box which he thought might contain more rings

but there were three letters in it.  They must have been written by his father who, from the

contents, so Ivo relayed, was stunned by the news that Mother was pregnant, was apologetic

but averred it was the first and only time and he did not wish to repeat the experience and

that now his course was over he was returning to live with his boyfriend and for the sake of

the little one she must not even contemplate....  But, there would be payment... There was no

address and they were signed just with the letter A.

     Charles told Ivo he was too distraught to ask Mother anything.  At least she hadn't

arranged to end his life but what should he do?  He wouldn't be seeing Mother anyway for a

couple of months as she was in Bermuda advising on the refurbishment of some grand house

and then going on to the States and he was going to Scotland to stay with an aged great‑aunt

who was the last surviving relative on Mother's side.  Perhaps she might know something.  I

must admit we did laugh imagining the hand wringing and waving and the hankies which

must have been displayed to wipe any tears away.  The trouble with Charles, said Ivo, is that

you can rarely distinguish fact from fiction.  But, we did wonder what it was like not

knowing who, or where, one's father was.