Some of the Characters Appearing or Mentioned:

Mark Henry Foster  The story‑teller:  Pennefather Organ Scholar

Tristan (Tris) Price‑Williams  His well‑proportioned boyfriend

Francis [Toad] Foster   Mark's sexually rampant younger brother

Ivo Richie Carr   Mark's cousin:  chunky and cheeky with it  

Adam Benjamin Carr    Ditto, as his twin

Oliver Jensen   A Musical undergraduate with allure

Fiona McKenzie  A Mathematical undergraduate with presence

Angus (Zack) McKenzie  Her younger brother, a young man with panache

Brandon McKenzie Her even younger brother with protective instincts

Gordon Foster      Father of Mark and Francis

Maria (Angelica Matteoli) Foster  Mother of Mark and Francis

Mrs Caroline Foster   Gordon's mother and pianist

We had a couple of days more before we made our way back home from the Carr's farm.

Frankie and the Thugs were inseparable after the bananas and the Boudicca's stallion pranks.

He was even dressed up in jodhpurs, riding boots and all and given some lessons in

horsemanship.  I pointed out he could then talk knowledgeably to Shelley having experienced

firm flesh between his legs.  He did admit he had a hard‑on all the time as the movement of

the horse stimulated his nether regions and he had to clean his teeth quite regularly after

dismounting.

     He also realised I was missing Tris terribly and, I think, that holiday made an even

closer bond between us as brothers.  Although nothing further sexual happened between us

he insisted we slept in the nude and we cuddled and caressed each other before falling to

sleep.  I said I was very grateful for his company and we did have more little talks about how

we felt.  There was no doubt that Frankie was straight, but, importantly, he was secure

enough to open his heart to his gay brother.  He did admit there were times when he could

imagine loving another male.  But then, he said, he wasn't sure about love... ...Jack's girls on

the computer weren't love objects, just images to get the juices flowing more readily.  I

pointed out he didn't seem to need much external stimulation to get his juices on the go.

'What were you like at sixteen, ancient one?' was his response.  As we were in bed at the

time I hugged him to me.  'Coming three times a day, probably once or twice with Tris and

the rest thinking about him'.  I expected 'Only three times?' but he nuzzled me and said with

feeling, 'Lucky bugger ‑ I just have me'.  He thrust his ever‑present erection at me with

several jerks of his hips, 'Monotonous ‑ but nice!'.

     Tris and his family arrived back on the last Sunday of the year and Auntie Dilys had

arranged a big party for family, friends and neighbours on New Year's Eve which was the

next day.  Us three boys were roped in for bar duties and seeing everyone was plentifully

supplied with drink.  Shelley was all simpers as she'd invited a 'boyfriend!!!'.  He was in the

same form as Frankie but wasn't one of his intimates.  A really sporty type with muscles

coming out of his ears ‑"and the smallest dick" as Frankie whispered as Tris and I were

loading up trays of glasses.  "Jealous?" I whispered, not referring to the diminutive dick but

to the fact Shelley was flaunting her catch.  "Fuck off," he replied with the best Toad sneer of

a lifetime, "She's welcome!"  Tris was amused.

     That day there had been a phone‑call from Fiona.  Would we, i.e., Tris, Frankie and

me, like to visit Arkley for lunch on Thursday.  This would mean a tube train journey to High

Barnet and she would fetch us by car.  Lucky!  She'd learned to drive during the summer. She

said the boys, Zack and Brandon, were all keyed up, especially to meet Frankie whose e‑

mails had sorted out several of Brandon's problems with some computer game.

     I had told Tris about Zack and he said he would help to manoeuvre him in my

direction if he needed to talk more.  This became possible as after a very good and

substantial lunch I went with Zack to Arkley Church where I played the organ and had a long

talk to him before the others arrived with Commander McKenzie who had just arrived back

from Scotland Yard.

     Zack was very open about his feelings.  He said he'd really now decided he was fully gay and I was able to tell him more about Tris and me.  Perhaps he should see if his gaydar was working.  "I think I know who," he said, smiling, "I think he may have guessed about me."  I said he should be careful.  He smiled.  "I think I'll be OK."

     Commander McKenzie came up to the organ console where I was sitting and the

others had arranged themselves in the pews.  He looked at Zack who smiled at him.

     "Bit more relaxed, eh?" he said to his son before he shook hands with me.  I could see

where the boys got their good looks and physique from.  "Thanks," was the first thing he said

to me.  We then discussed the organ and St Mark's and Dude while the others sat patiently

talking to each other.  I said he was the first old Pennefather Scholar I had met.  "Read Music

in my first year then switched to History and Political Science," he said, "So I  played the

organ for pleasure.  Let's hear you."

     Zack turned the pages as I played Bach's Fugue in g minor followed by his Prelude

and fugue in e minor, mainly as they followed each other in the book.  Two good tuneful

pieces so suited to the organ.  Commander McKenzie was most complimentary, so I said it

was his turn.  He smiled and turned the page and shook his head.  It was the Prelude and

fugue in c minor ‑ starting off with the terrific pedal solo.  "Need my organ shoes for that,"

he said.  He turned to the first work in the book ‑ the Allabreve.  He played it with perfection

with his ordinary shoes.

     We went back to the house and while the others still chatted amongst themselves I sat

with Zack and his father and Zack was able to tell his Dad he was now sure and that I'd

helped him just like Dude had.  He though it was time to tell his brother and sister.  Would

Tris and I sit with him while he told them.  His father smiled and nodded.  At tea‑time we all

sat round the big table with Zack between Tris and me.  Very clearly he said he had an

announcement to make.  It was a bit like when I told Frankie and he said he already knew.

Brandon stood up.  "On behalf of my sister and me, we are fully aware, there is no need for

Zack to say anything.  He's our brother and we love him and respect him now and for ever."

Fiona said "Hear, Hear".

     Zack looked dumbfounded.  Quite without thinking both Tris and I grasped one of his

hands each and squeezed.  I heard Tris say quietly, "You're OK, Zack.  Give us a shout if you

ever need."

     We were rather taken aback by the next happening.  Frankie turned to Brandon and

hugged him.  "If your brother's like mine you won't regret anything."  My, my, praise indeed

from my brother.

     Fiona came round and hugged her brother, then Tris and me.  "Thanks...," she said to

me with a dig in the arm for Zack, "...For sorting him out.  About time.  I thought choosing a

printer took rather a long time."

     Frankie and Brandon came round and there were more brotherly and friendly hugs.

"We'll be at St Mark's together, Zack," Frankie said confidently, "That is, if we get places.

But if these two could, it shouldn't be too difficult."

     'These two' gave him a dig in the ribs each.  "At least we're there," said Tris, "And

what about his sister?"

     All in all, a very happy day.  On the way back on the tube train Frankie said he was

sorry he didn't have much time to talk to Zack.  We suggested they met up in London, even

with Brandon tagging on.  All Frankie would say as he laughed was, "That Brandon, he's a

character!"

     So the vacation ended and we were back to Cambridge.  My second term and I had

plenty to do.  Both Tris and I went up a few days early ‑ he to consult the Library ‑ me to sort

out the Chapel music duties for the term as Matt had flu and I couldn't get hold of Drew and

the Chaplain had gone off to advise on something in Africa over Christmas.  Also, I had to

see the Bursar about arrangements for the recital Mum was giving.  It wasn't going to be

Mum's recital.  Grandma Foster had come up to stay overnight as she was going to see her

elderly cousin in Birmingham over the New Year.  As she and Frankie were belting out a

duet on the grand in the front room a plan was being hatched.  Why not a 'Foster Family and

Friends' recital?  Mum had already arranged with Tris that they would sing a soprano and

tenor duet.  I was to accompany that on the piano.  Gran was determined to come so she and

Frankie could play their favourite pieces ‑ a couple of Spanish Dances by Moszkowski.  That

meant Dad had to play, with either me or Gran accompanying him, and as well as the final

Mendelssohn excerpt I would definitely have to contribute something on the organ.  That's

Grans for you!  We would have to see!

     I was so busy those first few days I decided 'we' couldn't go to the Club on Friday

evening.  'We' included Oliver who had materialised as well a week early as he said he

wanted quiet as he was writing something.  In fact Charles banged on the door about eight

o'clock and took pity on three slaving studious students and took us to a small restaurant

where we were plied with good food and copious questions about Christmas.  He'd flown out

to Venice and lived it up there visiting 'the ancestral home' as he put it.  I felt very sorry for

him because, although he said he'd had a wonderful time, he'd spent Christmas Day by

himself in some sumptuous hotel and we'd had a riotous time with our extended family.

"Dears," he said, "There's no better place.  Death in Venice would be my own glorious

desire when the time comes."

     Oliver rather spoilt that sentiment by remarking that he'd been in Venice during

August in the heat and you could die from the smell of the drains.

     We told Charles about the visit to Oliver's Grandfather.  I asked if he knew if Mr

Pennefather had somewhere where he might have developed the photographs, or even when

the array of organ stops had been put up in the main room.  He put his fork down and picked

up his glass of wine.

     "My dears, I know of nowhere in the College where a suitable room might be unless

it was a scullery in the buttery, but that would be in constant use.  The kitchen in the set was

refurbished in 1970 and before that all it held was a butler sink and a gas range which was

most unreliable.  There was a wooden pantry to keep things cool and that was removed to

make the kitchen bigger.  I am aware of these details as I have read  the caustic comments of

the Servant of the Chapel at the time as he was much exercised as his demands for like

treatment were rebuffed.  His successor was better treated and my present kitchen was in

place by 1974."  He paused and took a sip from his wine glass.  He wrinkled his nose.

Whether at the taste of the wine, or in cogitation, I didn't know.  "As far as the stop knobs

are concerned there is a gap in the sequence of log books between 1890 and 1914.  The

Chaplain is of the opinion that the College was worried in case records might be destroyed

during that War so everything, books, manuscripts and so on were placed in the crypt.  He

wonders if they were inadvertently destroyed when the last War began and more things were

placed in the crypt for safe‑keeping.  We can live in hope that they may turn up.  Some don

may have taken them to look after and they are in someone's loft or cellar in Cambridge.

Things appear!"

     Oh, so we were no nearer finding where Augustus might have had his studio.  Studio?

That word suggested an outside establishment or a well‑stocked set‑up in College.  Where?

Then the stop‑knobs.  Just a whimsy?  He was fond of jokes and puns.  Something to amuse

his visitors?  It was a strange whimsy.  Almost calculated in some way.  But when and why?

     But puzzles, too much work, or whatever, Saturday night was different, 'we' went to

the Club.  That is, Tris, Oliver and I.  On arrival we had a good look round to see 'if there

was any new talent' according to Tris who got a thump from me for suggesting such a thing.

As we turned the corner to find our usual tucked‑away booth there gathered were Brad,

Whippet and Carl with a fourth leather‑clad young man.  Very smart in cap, shiny jacket with

a leather fringe, jeans, chaps and boots, fully on display.  Whippet and he were in deep

conversation with Brad and Carl looking on and a grinning Davy hovering.  It took a few

seconds to recognise the new man ‑ it was Adam!  Wow!  He did look the part and the others

were laughing at our astonishment.

     "Like the new look, eh lads?" asked Brad, signalling to Bulgy‑Boy for the usual.

"When are we going to get the rest of you kitted out like proper men?"

     "We could always try," I said, looking at Tris who was staring with unalloyed adoration

at a transformed Adam.  "Down, Fido," I said, "If he wants to dance I'll let you but no

fingering his tassels...."

     Brad roared with laughter and Adam stood up.  "My pleasure, young sir," he said to

Tris, "Get your shirt off and rub yourself against me, cowboy!"

     They were off.  The pounding music was just right for two lithe and energetic

dancers.  Oliver grabbed Whippet, and Carlo and Dave were soon on the floor, too.  I sat and

told Brad about meeting his old boss and how Zack had come out to the family.  I said he'd

sent a couple of e‑mails since saying he would see if the lad in his form at school was at all

interested.  I also told him about Frankie and what he'd done and the reprisals.  I had a few of

the photographs with me and we both laughed at the 'horse' and the huntsmen.

     "I can't make out my lad at the moment," he said, "He keeps boasting about all the

women he's had but I've never seen any and he goes about with that lad Danny's brother

who seems a real tosser.  At least he's doing some studying and he seems interested enough in

that.  Who'd be a father?"

     "I doubt if I will be," I said, "And I don't suppose it gets any easier even when they're

old enough to leave home!"

     He laughed.  "And you're eighteen and sounding forty‑eight!"

     Adam came in for a bit of ribbing when he and Tris had exhausted themselves

dancing.  He wasn't fazed, in fact he really did look great.  He took off his cap ‑ or really,

Whippet's spare one ‑ to show us the badge on the front.  It was the St Mark's crest and

Whippet said it was probably an old blazer button and he'd found it on a stall at a car‑boot

sale he was monitoring for stolen or counterfeit goods.  I asked Adam if Ivo knew of his

transformation.  He grinned and said not unless we told him he was enjoying himself.

     It must have been at least half past eleven when Gabe appeared with his pal Lorenzo.

He didn't recognise Adam at first then pronounced him 'dinky‑di' which we found was

Aussie for 'authentic'.  He said Josh was well away with his female conquest, Carry, and had

stayed with her family over Christmas and New Year.  "Poor bugger could hardly walk," he

averred, "Bloody sheila had him shagging her non‑stop I thought.  Actually, poor fucker had

fallen off his bloody horse at the Hunt on Boxing Day." He laughed.  "Some anti‑fucker got a

bloody kick in the crutch for doing it.  He blew a bloody whistle and up went the hoss and off

came Josh and Josh booted the bastard fair dinkum."

     It turned out Gabe had been with Lorenzo at his home for the holiday and when I

went to the pissoir he lumbered in behind me.  "Had a bonza time," he said, "Christ

Almighty, I could hardly bloody walk meself after three days of Lo's shagging me.  Fucking

bonza!"  Gabe must have had a skinful before he came to the Club as I left him still pissing

and repeating "Fucking bonza!".

     Adam must have told Ivo himself about the leather outfit.  He'd gone off after the

evening at the Club on the back of Whippet's motor‑bike so we assumed he'd left his

ordinary clothes at Whippet's flat.  Of course, this was a new bone of contention.  It was

almost as if Ivo was jealous he hadn't been included.  Perhaps he was, but he'd been

indulging himself in another way with 'Tory.  All this was repeated ad nauseam before,

during and after our daily runs.  I was improving and Oliver and I went 'the extra hedge' as

he put it after we had gauged we were ready for the longer distance.  It meant I now ran past

the place where Babyballs Bryce had met his end.  Yes, in the cold  wetness of a January

morning the ditch looked most dank and sinister.

     On the next Saturday I had a busy schedule so couldn't take up Adam's offer of a ride

to Peterborough to the Register Office where he was going to look for the birth

announcement.  He had already told me he'd gone through the old Alumni records and there

were three ADs around at the time.  He would try to find out a bit more to see if any were old

Augustus's friend ‑ or enemy.  He also had to look up the Peterborough papers as well about

Lloyd George as Simon was sure he'd ranted there as well.  I said Oliver would probably like

a ride as he was well ahead with his work and had said whatever he had been writing had

turned out well.

     So, I had a lecture, a quick coffee with Fiona and Dina while we did the problems on

vector analysis between us, a snatched lunch then two hours having a lesson with Lewis on

the organ at his College.  I was in my rooms just after four thinking that Tris would be back

soon, probably with Ivo, as they were playing against another College's 9th team or

thereabouts.  They always made out their team were the pits though they generally won!  In

preparation I'd been to the cake‑shop and stocked up with goodies as they would be starving.

I'd just got the kettle on when they arrived.  Tris didn't look too bad but Ivo had a bruised

cheek and insisted on lowering his jeans to show where some poxy bastard had raked his leg

with his studs after Ivo had tackled one of the fucker's team‑mates.  Ivo was not in a good

mood!  He was a bit better with a mug of tea and two pastries on a plate in the other hand.

     Just at that moment his mobile rang and simultaneously there was a thump on the

door.  I went to see who it was and heard Ivo in the background shout "What!!".  It was Jason

at the door looking flustered and worried.

     "Mr Foster, is Mr Carr here?" he asked, "There's been an accident!"  He couldn't

keep up the niceties.  "Adam and Oliver are in Addenbrookes ‑ there's been a fire!"

     I thought immediately they'd had a motorbike accident.  But, no.

     "Don't know much but they were at Mr Finch‑Hampton's and the garage was on fire.

I've called a taxi."

     Good old Jason.  Efficient as ever.  Ivo came hurrying through.

     "That was Oliver.  They seem OK but they're at Addenbrookes."

     Jason told him a taxi was on the way.  The three of us rushed out leaving Jason with

six delectable pastries and a pot of tea.  He seemed undecided whether to remain or to return

to the Porter's Lodge for more information.

     The taxi was waiting at the back gate.  On the way we mulled over what might have

happened.

     "Probably the silly fool...," said Ivo, meaning Adam, "...overfilled the tank and the

petrol caught fire."

     "Need a spark or a flame," said Tris, "Neither of them smoke so it couldn't have been

that."

     "We don't know where the fire was, do we?  Other than a garage.  And he's got two

garages so Frankie told me," I said.

     In the end we just sat glumly as the taxi trundled with the traffic round the outskirts of

Cambridge.  At the hospital the other two rushed off while I paid the taxi‑driver who was

most sympathetic and hoped nothing was too awful.  I was spared 'had six dead bodies on the

back seat last week' or likewise.  The receptionist knew I was also looking for the pair when

I got to the desk and pointed me towards A & E.

     Oliver and Adam were lying on beds in separate cubicles.  Ivo was talking to Adam

who looked quite dazed and Tris was in with Oliver who was coherent but shocked.  I went

into his cubicle.  He gave me a wry smile.

     "Just saying to Tris I've never seen anything like it.  Flames and then it exploded." he

said quickly shaking his head.  His fair hair was quite blackened with soot or debris and he

had smudges on his face and the windcheater he was wearing.  "I pulled Adam away just in

time.  He was trying to get in but the flames were too intense."

     "Slow down, old mate," said Tris putting out a hand and taking hold of a rather black

paw, "Take your time.  Just lie there.  We're here."  I saw Oliver grip Tris's hand.  It seemed

to relax him a bit.

     We stood and he lay in silence for a couple of minutes.  He had his eyes closed.  "Is

Adam OK?" he asked quietly.

     I left the cubicle and parted the curtain next door.  A doctor and nurse were there as

well as Ivo who saw me and smiled and nodded.  I gave him a thumb's up and went back to

the other cubicle.   "He looks OK," I said, "Ivo's with him and there's a doctor there

checking him over."

     Oliver smiled.  "He was very brave."

     We were then disturbed by the curtain being pulled back and who should appear but

Batman with a large male nurse.  Both looked rather grim.

     "Hello, Constable," I said, "What's happened?"

     He beckoned us out leaving Oliver with the male nurse.  "What do you know?" he

asked.

     "Nothing much," said Tris, "We heard there had been a fire and Adam and Oliver

were in here.  Oliver's managed to say Adam was very brave and he pulled him away before

something happened.  I think he said something exploded."

     "Do you know why they were there?"

     "You mean at Mr Finch‑Hampton's I suppose?" I said.  He nodded.  I continued.

"You know Adam keeps the bike there, and he and Oliver were going to Peterborough this

morning to do some research and I assume this happened when they returned."

     He nodded.  He drew out a notebook.  "At three thirty two Sergeant Woolpit received

a mobile phone call from Oliver Jensen saying there was a fire at Hampton House.  At three

thirty‑three our control centre received a call from Oliver Jensen saying the same.  A fire

engine and ambulance were dispatched.  They arrived approximately five minutes later just

as the garage exploded.  We assume a car and petrol were involved."

     At that moment his mobile rang.  He listened attentively and his face looked even

grimmer.  "Yes, Sir," he said, "I have both witnesses here plus their friends who were not

involved.  May I tell them?"  There was a further short burst too faint to overhear.  "Yes,

Sir," he said and switched the mobile off.

     "That was Mr Wolstencroft, he will be here soon," he said.  "There has been a

fatality.  When the firemen got the fire under control they saw there was a body in the car.  A

sports car."

     "Mr Finch‑Hampton?" I asked very quietly.

     The Constable shook his head.  "We don't know yet.  There will have to be tests."

     "A sports car?  That was in the other garage,"  I said, remembering something.   The

constable looked at me quizzically.  "Yes, my brother told me.  Adam took him for a ride

when he was here last term and being nosy he was snooping about while Adam was putting

the bike away in the main garage, I suppose.  He said the windows were dirty but he thought

it was a red car with a sheet over its bonnet.  A  red sports car."

     "You didn't see it yourself?"

     I shook my head.  "No..."

     "...I haven't either," said Tris, "I saw the other garage but I didn't investigate.  Adam

said he'd never seen Mr Finch‑Hampton driving the car which he said was in there.  He

didn't seem to know what sort it was although he'd seen Mr Finch‑Hampton go into the

garage some time or other.  I think Adam said he only used the Merc in the garage where the

bike was kept."

     At last Constable Bachman smiled.  "Thanks.  I'd better have a chat to Mr Carr.

Don't get Mr Jensen talking.  Wait for me as I expect Mr Wolstencroft and Sergeant Woolpit

will be here soon."

     We found two chairs and sat either side of Oliver.  He didn't want to talk and we kept

silent and heard the low murmurs from the other cubicle.  It wasn't long before the familiar

face of Sergeant Woolpit appeared round the curtain.  I silently offered him my chair and he

sat by Oliver and began questioning him noting down what was said in a notebook.

     We heard that the pair returned from Peterborough about half‑past three just as it was

getting a bit dark.  Oliver had noticed someone cycling out of the drive of the house when

they were about two hundred yards away and thought it might be a paper‑boy as he had a bag

slung over his back.  He'd noted he was wearing the usual adolescent rig of grey sweatshirt

top and bottoms and had the hood pulled up.  Just as they got into the drive they both noticed

the other garage had smoke coming out of a broken window.  As they got off the bike Adam

had chucked his mobile at Oliver with the instruction to ring for the Fire Brigade.  Oliver saw

that Whippet's number was first on the list so had phoned him straight away as he rushed in

the back‑door of the house which was open.  He had found a phone in the kitchen and had

dialled 999 there.  He'd come out to find the garage well alight with flames coming out of

the roof and Adam desperately trying to open the side door because he'd shouted he thought

someone was in there.  He'd seen two flashes through the broken window and with great

presence of mind had grabbed Adam and dragged him away.  They had gone no more than

four or five yards when the garage exploded showering them with soot and debris.  They

heard the fire engine bell and had rushed back even further as the flames were really intense.

There was another huge explosion which a fireman had said was probably a small gas

canister.  The ambulance arrived and they were carted off.

     "Very succinct and very informative," said the Sergeant.

     "Had time to think about it," said Oliver.  "Is Adam OK?"

     "I think so," he said, "I came in here first as a nurse was bandaging one of his hands.

The Constable's there keeping watch.  He smiled at me so I think he recognised me.  It shows

he's still got a few brains left."

     I had the greatest urge to ask if that was after having them just about shagged out the

last weekend.  Adam had not appeared for the morning service on Sunday!  And he had not

been forthcoming with an excuse other than a sly smile.

     "I won't be interviewing him.  I'll leave that to the DCI."  Of course.  If anything

came out about their relationship it would be embarrassing, if not difficult, for both.  "We'll

all be too busy tonight for anything." He shook his head.  "Funny business."

     Yes.  I'd already thought that.  It was observant of Oliver to have noted 'the

paperboy'.  That description matched another.  I would ask Whippet if he'd made the

connection, too.  But we'd better hear about Adam's recollections as well.

     The DCI turned up about five minutes later and greeted us but then went immediately

into Adam's cubicle.  We heard a 'Oh, no!' from Adam.  He must have been told about the

body.  Was it Simon's?  Why would anyone want to destroy the car?  The thought was rather

immense: or him?  College politics?  College enmities?  The Chapel?  The Pennefather

Bequest?  Anything else? A spurned or wronged female?  The list seemed endless.  Any

clues?  The red car.  A thought jangled.  Why did he never drive it?  It looked covered and

dusty ‑ at least the garage windows were.  Red car.  Red paint.  Oh, no!!  An accident.  How

old was the car?  I would have to put my thoughts to Mr Wolstencroft or to Sergeant

Woolpit.  But who would it involve?

     A doctor came in a few minutes later and we went out while he examined Oliver.  He

came out about five minutes later.

     "I think your friend is OK," he said, "He's a bit shocked with the events but the

Sergeant said you can take him back to College when we've signed him out."

     "What about Mr Carr?" asked Tris.

     "He's got a burn on his hand and he's probably a bit singed but the motorcycle

leathers stopped him from being too harmed.  We'll let him home if the DCI lets us."

     "You know Mr Wolstencroft, then?" Tris asked.

     "Oh yes, very well.  There's often trouble here at the weekends," he said very

seriously.  "We had a stabbing in last Friday.  Drugs.  Chap died."  He flapped his hands very

much like Charles.  "Didn't even make the front page of the local paper."

     I thought.  "Isn't there an evening paper here?"

     The doctor looked at me, "Yes.  The Cambridge Evening News.  Why?"

     "Oh," I said, "Oliver thought he saw a paper‑boy before the fire."

     The doctor shook his head.  "I doubt it.  I live in the road along by where this

happened and no‑one delivers papers there on a Saturday afternoon.  I know that because our

newsagent has difficulty finding kids to deliver even in the mornings."  He laughed.  "Lads

these days don't seem to want pocket‑money or they prefer their beds."  I looked at his name

tag.  'Dr Tim Truscott'.

     The DCI emerged from the other cubicle.  He looked at us.  "He's all yours.  Brave

lad.  I'll have to come to the College for more statements."

     "There was a body?" asked Tris.

     The DCI nodded.  "And before you, my lawyer friend asks, no, we don't know who it

is and I would suggest you don't mention it around until we do know.  But...."  He left the

sentence hanging but the implication of the identity of the victim was there.

     "Just one thing," I said.  "Oliver said he thought he saw a paper‑boy coming out of

the drive.  Grey sweat‑shirt and so on.  Dr Truscott just said they don't have papers delivered

on a Saturday afternoon in that road.  I just wondered."

     Mr Wolstencroft smiled.  "Thanks for telling me that.  That'll save a lot of time I can

ask him now.  You made the connection?"

     I nodded.  Paper‑boy ‑ small ‑ grey ‑ Brinley and Bryce.  Perhaps nothing but the DCI

had seen my reasoning.

     We gathered up a rather stunned Adam and a rather more awake Oliver and were

ferried back to College by Police car.  There was a welcoming committee in the Porter's

Lodge.  Old Albert, Jason, the Chaplain and Charles, in order of precedence!  Charles took

over.

     "My dears, you must all go to Mark's abode.  I have arranged a slight repast for you

and Jason dear will serve you.  Dr Henson, I hope you will accompany us."

     Solemn though the occasion was I couldn't help exchanging a grin with the Chaplain.

On the way to my set I explained to him what seemed to have happened.  He just nodded.

Although I hadn't mentioned names he then said, "Mr Finch‑Hampton isn't in his rooms

here."

     He talked for a few moments to both Oliver and Adam and had quite a calming effect.

He also said if needed just contact him as his wife was a trained nurse.

     Oliver went to the bathroom first and I lent him some clothes as his were pretty dirty

and smelt of smoke and something rather pungent.  Ivo went with Adam next and he at last

emerged wearing my cargoes and a new sweatshirt.  While they were away and the others

were being fussed over by Charles assisted by a very attentive Jason I remembered the

arrangements for the evening which would have to be cancelled.

     I went to my study and retrieved my mobile which, stupidly, I rarely carried.  I

phoned the Prof's number as we'd promised to meet up with Barry at the Club at ten‑thirty.

Jacob van Zyl answered.  I explained that we would have to cancel.  I said very briefly why,

just saying that there had been a fire at the place where Adam parked his bike and he had a

burned hand.  He said he was sorry to hear that, he hoped he was OK and Barry would be

disappointed.  They'd just finished their evening meal.  Just him, Pauli and Barry as James

and Paul had gone up to London to Covent Garden.  The son of a friend of James was

dancing there in the ballet.  When were we all going to come again for food and more

entertainment?  When we're invited, I said.  Anytime, he laughed and called out "Barry".

Barry said not to worry he understood and would beat the others at three‑handed poker

instead.  I said I would call him about next week‑end.

     Next morning it was my turn to play at the eleven o'clock service.  Adam and Oliver

were there in the choir as if nothing had happened.  The Chaplain prayed for all who had

suffered misfortune during the week and I'm sure looked across to where the pair were

standing side by side in robes and surplices.  I also noted a furtive figure scuttle out as soon

as the service ended.

     No sooner than the group of us had assembled in my set for a chat after the coffee and

biscuits in the Chapel than Jason rapped on the door.  "Detective Chief Inspector

Wolstencroft to see Mr Carr and Mr Jensen."  He stood by the door as the DCI entered.

     "Good," he said, "You are all here.  Please sit down.  I have a formal announcement

to make and then I would ask you all to remain while my colleagues take statements."  It

sounded ominous.  "I have to inform you that the body of Mr Finch‑Hampton was found in

the remains of the garage.  He was provisionally identified by a particular birthmark on his

leg." There was a concerted gasp and poor Adam was held tight by his brother.  "I have

informed the Master and he has given me permission to interview you in the College.  You

may have the Chaplain present if you wish."

     I saw Tris nod at Adam.  "I would prefer that," said Adam.

     Jason was dispatched to the Chaplain's house.  He arrived very shortly after with

Sergeant Woolpit and Constable Bachman in tow.  The DCI used my study and took Adam in

there with the Chaplain.  I sat and listened while the Sergeant quizzed Oliver, and Ivo and

Tris were asked questions by the constable.  All was most formal and from the looks between

the three policeman when they had finished all the stories tallied.  I still had something to say

and I wanted to say it so all could hear as it might involve other friends and others who were

very important.

     "Mr Wolstencroft," I said when all were back in the room, "I would like to ask and

also tell you something."  They all sat down again but I remained standing.  "I have thought

long and hard about this.  May I ask something first?  Was the car red?  Did it have signs of

any damage?"

     The DCI nodded.  "Yes the car was a sports model in a special shade of red.  It also

had a damaged front nearside wheel arch."

     "Thank you," I said, plucking up courage to continue.  "This is a theory but it links

with something else."  I saw Tris nodding, he'd realised what I was going to say.  "A friend,

Mr van Zyl, was injured in an accident about four years ago.  He says he remembers nothing

about it except for something red.  There was red paint left on his car and I assume the police

will have a record of it."  The DCI nodded.  "I wonder if the accident was caused by whoever

was driving that sports car.  It seems odd that the car has been garaged and not used."

     The DCI had his chin in his hand.  He stroked it and nodded again.  "We will check

on that.  As you know I am acquainted with Mr van Zyl and I have wondered about that

accident.  It happened just before I moved here but I heard about it as Mr van Zyl is a very

respected solicitor and has prosecuted for us a number of times.  Give me a few moments."

He went back to my study.

     The Chaplain came over to me while a buzz of conversation started.  "This raises all

sorts of other issues.  If you are right a friend of Mr van Zyl's may have found out about the

car.  And this will involve the College again."

     "Professor Tanner?" I said, "That's why I said I'd thought about it long and hard.

From what Mr van Zyl told me last night no one there was involved."  I then told the

Chaplain quite openly that we were going to take Barry Hall to a club ‑ I didn't mention

which one ‑ as he was staying with and looking after Mr van Zyl.  We'd cancelled the

arrangements and I went on to say what I'd been told.  The Chaplain nodded and said it

seemed satisfactory but leave the rest to the DCI.

     The DCI came back in.  "I've asked for the file on the accident to be on my desk as

soon as I get back.  I'm sorry we had to break such tragic news but we have to do our duty.  I

would like to commend Adam on his attempt at a rescue but it would have been fruitless.  I'll

ask you all to sign the statements tomorrow when typed up."  He smiled at me.  "Thanks for

what you said.  It will be treated confidentially and speedily.  I trust no‑one will

communicate any of this until an official announcement is made."  A clear hint to me not to

phone Jacob!

     I wasn't finished.  "When Adam and Oliver got undressed and had a shower here their

clothes smelled of smoke but there was something else as well.  I'll get them."

     I went through to the bedroom where his leathers and jeans were bundled up in a

corner and Oliver's windcheater was under them.  I sniffed.  Yes there was definitely smoke

and something else.  I gave the bundle to the DCI who sniffed as well.

     "Something chemical," he said.  "May I take them?"

     Adam nodded and Oliver looked a bit concerned, but he nodded, too.  I found a large

black plastic bag and they were bundled in after the pockets were emptied.  Oliver's concern

was because his wallet was in his windcheater.  The DCI labelled the bag and gave Adam

and Oliver receipts.

     The next week was hectic.  I was rather dreading seeing Professor Tanner for my

tutorial on Monday afternoon.  He said he'd already been interviewed that morning and he

was glad I'd said what I did.  It might clear up the mystery of the crash.

     On Wednesday afternoon, just as I was going to the Chapel to practice, the Sergeant

came to my set.  He wasn't all smiles but happy.  "Just to let you know you're theory has

proved correct.  The paint samples matched up.  It must have been the driver of that car who

caused the accident.  We've found that Mr Finch‑Hampton took delivery of the car two days

before the accident.  There was only a hundred miles or so on the clock so he could only have

been to about Huntingdon and back with the delivery mileage.  It fits but it's still

circumstantial.  Mr van Zyl could have a claim against the estate if anything was proved.

The DCI says thanks about that and noting the smell on the clothes.  The analysis showed it

was a chemical they call an accelerant.  Some must have been in the debris when the garage

exploded.  They were both very lucky.  Mr Wolstencroft will be writing to the Master

praising your observation.  He said if you want a job when you're finished here he'll

recommend you.  You'd look good in uniform."

     "I might try leather first," I said, "You've converted Adam."

     He did laugh then.  "See you Saturday all being well."

     All seemed resolved by the weekend except for a couple of things.  The identity of the

grey‑clad figure and, also, whoever set the fire must know a good deal about chemical

reactions.  Although we didn't discuss it I knew the policemen had made the same

deductions as I had.  There was a connection between the three deaths.  It was also something

to do with the College.  I had ideas but no proof.  I didn't even share them with Tris.

     Adam was too stunned to talk much.  The Chaplain took over as his tutor with the old

don from the other college who had commended his essay.  He was rather gratified over one

thing.  The three essays he'd had to write 'in strict order' were on Mr Finch‑Hampton's desk

ready for the next tutorial.  They were all graded alpha.

     Even Charles was subdued.  He didn't mention 'that man' and was very helpful in

arranging the funeral service to be held in the Chapel and shepherded the family members in

and out bearing his wand of office.  Both Matt and I played.  Drew didn't even attend.  It was

very sombre and the Chapel was crowded.  Mainly, I thought, with gawpers as the death had

hit the headlines later in the week.  The Master gave the Homily and didn't mention the

dissension caused directly, but referred only to Mr Finch‑Hampton's trenchant views and the

excellence of his teaching.  I didn't notice any tears in the congregation, even among the half

dozen of his family who attended.  I thought that at least the Chapel might be safe for a while

until someone else raised objections.

     Only Adam and Ivo went to the inquest.  'Death by person or persons unknown' was

the verdict.  Adam was commended by the coroner for his bravery in trying to get through the

door and for his initiative in getting Oliver to phone.  The Chief Fire Officer had reported on

that and said even if the Fire Brigade had got there even sooner nothing could have been

done.  There was clear evidence that a chemical had been added to petrol and would have

accounted for the blazing inferno.  Mr Wolstencroft in his evidence said that they had found

a brick and the remains of a canister in the garage.  The brick had been used to break the

window and the canister was too buckled and burnt to say what the chemical had been but

the analysis of samples from Adam's leather jacket suggested that at least an inflammable

solvent had been also involved.

     The 'paper‑boy' wasn't mentioned but Whippet told Adam much later that someone

had noticed a strange gardener on the property the previous week.  I kept my thoughts to

myself but I wondered if the presence of Mr Finch‑Hampton in his garage at the time might

have been fortuitous.  Was the blaze supposed really to have been a warning?  Evidence?

     I also had other things on my mind.  Mum's recital.  She had sent a list of items.  She

and Tris must have been in cahoots.  It seemed to me to be a mix of the sacred and profane.

Tris just laughed and said I was too hidebound by tradition.  It was a celebration, an

entertainment and a real family and friends affair.  If I was going to be po‑faced he'd

withhold sexual activity just like Lysistrata until I was begging for it.  As we were in bed at

the time I rolled on top of him and he was riding on my shaft within moments.

     "You wouldn't be able to withhold for more than ten minutes once you miss this," I

panted and pushed in even deeper with harder and harder thrusts.  He was bucking his hips in

synchrony so I had him exactly where I wanted him.  Deny me?  Like Hell!  We came almost

simultaneously.  I shot a load deep in him and with a supreme effort of will sat up, grabbed

his engorged cock and gave him the fastest and most stupendous wank I could.  He sprayed

not only his face but my pillow as well with the streams of spunk that jetted out.

     "Oh fuck, Marky!"  He managed to say once his own orgasmic frenzy had

diminished, "I couldn't deny you anything."

     I was still impaled.  My cock was still rigid.  I jerked my hips a couple of times.

"Seconds straight away!" I said.

     "Mercy, mercy," he cried, heaving with laughter now.  "Give me a fucking cuddle

and discuss things.  Stay in."  He squeezed my shaft with his muscles and I thought I would

fire another volley without much more effort.  "You're too precious to me to deny you

anything.  But you're a stubborn bugger.  Just lighten up and listen to reason."

     I recited the provisional programme as sent by Mum.  OK.  I agreed.  She would start

with three songs by Hugo Wolf.  She would pick three lively ones and I could accompany

her.  I'd played through a good few when she sang through at home so I was reasonably

happy I could do that.  Practice, though!  Dad was next.  A longish Mozart Sonata ‑ the one in

B flat ‑ he'd ask Safar to accompany him and would play it on the violin he'd been given.

Yep.  Then Mum again.  She'd discovered the three Spiritual Songs by Dvorak and had sung

one in church with me accompanying on the organ.  Yes.  That would be alright.  Then Gran

and Frankie.  Two of the Spanish Dances.  I hoped he would be competent enough.  Of

course he would!  Then Tris and Mum.  Something from Gilbert and Sullivan.  Tris had

asked Oliver if he would accompany them.  I knew Oliver was a most competent pianist, but

Gilbert and Sullivan?  It would be suitable I was assured.  Then me on the organ to finish the

first half.   OK, to follow the G&S, that concert piece by Lefebre‑Wely.  Good for a few

laughs.  In the right places I hoped.  That would be a very varied first half and plenty in it.

OK, again.

     The second half would be the test.  Mum was always getting her better pupils to try

songs by Duparc.  Lovely.  Three of those.  Then Dad and Safar again.  He'd decide on a

piece with Safar's agreement.  Something lighthearted.  Tris was giggling now so I gave a

couple of thrusts to quieten him.  It was the next piece.  I'd heard Oliver and Tris busking

'Moon River' before Christmas in my room.  They sounded good.  Tris could put on a sultry

voice when needed.  Oliver had apparently arranged it over the vacation for Soprano, Tenor,

two oboes and piano as something for part of his this term assessment.  Mum, Tris, Oliver

and Fiona with Dina on piano.  I said I didn't know she played.  You haven't lived, matey, he

said and bucked his hips.  She's good.  I'd like to hear it, I said.  You will, ducky, he said,

giving me a further feeling of sexual delight with his movements.  OK.  Gran and Toad again.

The three final Spanish Dances.  Plenty of liveliness there.  Then my turn.  Right, my old

favourite, Boellmann's Menuet Gothique.  Really show off the organ.  Finally, down to earth

again.  The extract from Mendelssohn's Elijah.  I would have to get Matt to conduct the

Chapel Choir, Ivo and Adam in it, with Mum as the soloist and me accompanying on the

organ.  Thinking about it.  Something for everyone.  Definitely 'Foster Family and Friends'.

     I was then definitely friendly to my close family, my Tris.  I fucked him long and

slow this time and the sweat was pouring off us both as we squelched together for a long,

long cuddle of supreme togetherness.  We had a shower together then damp but happy we

clung to each other and slept until my alarm woke us.  Satiated and satisfied the night before,

but ready for our run when Oliver and the Thugs appeared.  I always marvelled at the energy

we must have expended in our now more frequent couplings and the complete readiness to

wake and expend more energy on a run the morning after.  Tris shared a bed with me every

night now.  A couple of times a week we used his bed, the rest of the time luxuriating in the

comfort of my bigger bed.  As I said our complete couplings were now much more frequent.

I probably fucked Tris more than he fucked me but it didn't seem to matter, we were ready

always for what ever happened.

     As half term approached I went home one weekend to go through the piano parts of

the songs with Mum and to sort out the exact tempos for the Mendelssohn.  I came back with

very heavily marked copies, but she seemed satisfied that I was a reasonably good

accompanist.  She said that with the same intonation that Toad had.  I would have to watch

Mum, perhaps he was having a bad influence on her.  But then, which came first, the chicken

or the egg, Toad or Toad's Mum?   I said this to her and she said she'd had plenty of

experience like that with Uncle Francesco.  She didn't say which way so I was none the

wiser.   But I did make it clear that Toad would not be too welcome over his half term.  I was

working really hard.  Getting my head round seven topics in Maths, plus my almost total lack

of knowledge of computing, and now the extra practice on piano and organ for the concert

meant I had to juggle my schedule every day including Saturdays and Sundays.

     The respite came in those nightly encounters with Tris and the visits to the Club.

Adam was now a very swaggering sight in his own leathers and from his own admission he

was getting full satisfaction from that rampantly obvious cock I felt pressed into me

whenever I danced with Whippet.  Barry appeared most Saturdays, unless there was a dinner

party, driven by a very relieved Jacob now the mystery of the crash had more or less been

satisfactorily solved.  We'd been invited to a couple more gatherings at the bungalow and our

group got to know a lot about the social ramifications of Cambridge academic life.  Barry, of

course, knew Danny from the catering course they were both doing and, after a rather

hesitant meeting, became firm friends.  A laughing Jonty saying he always lived in hope that

Barry might turn out to be gay as the pair of them turned him on.  Barry took it all in good

part and danced with all and sundry and seemed happier and happier as the weeks rolled by.

     Toad was not happy when it was made clear I was too busy to cope with hm.  All was

well, though.  Mum had to go out to Italy to placate Grandma Matteoli who was proving

fractious and had quarrelled with a neighbour and complained all the time about her sister.

She took Frankie with her over his half‑term week as she thought he might exert his charm

on Grandma.  What charm, I wondered.  Not to worry.  Aldo took him in charge and they

flew up to Venice where he had to check on something to do with the Palazzo.  I received an

e‑mail with a photo of Toad sitting in St Mark's Square quaffing coffee with a look of bliss

on his face.  The message was 'Wish you could be here to see me enjoying myself, Baron‑in‑

waiting Francis the Leopard'.

     Instead of Toad I had Zack.  More exactly, Fiona asked us if we would mind talking

to him again.  The lad he'd thought about had turned out to be gay, but already had a close

friend.  He liked Zack but that was all.  So Zack came and stayed for three days, shacked up

in Tris's room with the connivance of Charles and Jason and much to the astonishment of Ivo

and Adam who encountered this very confident and older than his years looking young man

emerging from Tris's room as they and he were coming down to breakfast the morning after

he'd arrived.  They confessed they'd thought Tris was shagging some student from another

College without me knowing and were ready to give Tris the benefit of their minds and their

boots.  They said this after Zack had been introduced and they'd followed me into the kitchen

laughing their heads off.   Zack was pleased to be thought worthy of Tris's attentions as I

announced all this as soon as I went back into the main room with a container of plump

sausages and nicely crisped bacon.

     Zack didn't mind me telling them all about him.  Oliver was very sympathetic.

Oliver still hadn't made contact with anyone and I think in some way that helped Zack.  Here

was a most handsome young man still looking and here was he, Zack, just beginning to look.

Everything took time.  Oliver promised to keep in touch and if Zack liked, he could come

down to Dorset to stay.  I think even Fiona was agreeable to that.  Zack was now seventeen

and could make his own mind up.  I just wondered if a friendship might blossom.

     Zack was delightful company.  During the day he explored Cambridge by himself and

spent hours in the Fitzwilliam Museum and the Archaeology Museum.   Two evenings we

took him out to eat and on the Friday night dressed him in Matteoli gear and, even though a

bit underage, took him to the Club.  We knew none of the police would be there as Adam had

said they were doing a raid somewhere that evening.  Zack was entranced and turned out to

be a natural dancer.  Shirt off and showing the makings of a soon to sprout very hairy chest

he looked stunning, and at least twenty.  He had Danny, Jonty and Dave vying for the next

dance all evening.  He and Oliver were on the floor together most of the rest of the time

though I had a couple of very smoochy ones with him and, if what I felt pressed against my

own hard‑on was evidence, he was also extremely well‑hung.  What made it for both of us

and made us giggle together like two little maids was the rubbing together of my hairy chest

against his incipient one.  He was most open as we parted after that dance.  "God, Mark, you

turn me on!  I wish there were two of you!"  I felt the same about him.  I wanted him and Tris

in bed with me there and now.   My thoughts of what three horny, rampant young men would

do nearly made me squirt in my minimal tanga briefs.

     We slipped back into College past a dozing Night Porter.  Oliver and he grinned at

each other as we passed Oliver's door on the staircase as Tris and I went up to see him safely

in his room for his final night.  He grabbed Tris first as we shut the door.  They were lip‑

locked and I thought Tris might get raped if he was lucky.  They separated and in a moment I

was being kissed and hugged so tight.  I opened my mouth to take a breath and his tongue

was straight in.  We tongue‑fucked while Tris came and put his arms round us both.  He

gently led us to the bed and as we clung to each other he undressed both of us, then himself

and we fell onto the narrow bed and felt each other all over.  As Zack and I kissed and

stroked each other's hard young bodies so Tris, on his knees, sucked and laved one and then

the other of our so‑hard erections.  Yes, Zack was well‑hung.  I'd peered down as Tris had

peeled off his briefs.  His prick was straight up and just about matched ours but his balls were

a real sight.  Two large low‑hanging orbs, no doubt manufacturing the sweetest and most

generous amounts of boyseed.

     It wasn't long before I gasped as that familiar tongue probed my ridge again and

again.  I shot an enormous load which I heard Tris trying to swallow down.  I spattered his

face with the last two squirts then, soon, Zack shuddered against me and gave a little cry

against my cheek as he went into spasms.  Tris sounded as if he was drowning as he

spluttered.  Zack's hips jerked rhythmically as Tris must have taken his prick into his mouth

again and was giving it those almighty sucks I had just experienced.  I knew Zack would be

in ecstasy.  I had experienced that virtuosity so many times so I knew exactly what sensations

Zack was undergoing.  Zack just about collapsed against me and those so familiar sounds of

great contentment were breathed against my ear.  I held him tight as his passion subsided.

Tris climbed up and held us while he smeared the remnants of those two outpourings on

waiting lips.

     Twice more during the night the sexual ballet took place.  I caressed the almost

sleeping pair and found their ready cocks and sucked both to further oblivion.  True, Zack's

generous flow was like honey as it gushed into my mouth.  Towards dawn, a newly‑inducted

Zack slowly and with great care sucked his pair of willing lovers until he, too, could share

their warm seed.  We slept on.  I heard the accustomed rushing behind the wall and gently

woke Tris.  We kissed Zack awake and said we would have to go for our run but we would

be back.  He kissed us both tenderly and smiled.  A truly satisfied boy had experienced real

love and affection and the fruits of that love.

     On our return, followed into my set by Oliver and the twins, we found a glowing boy.

Breakfast completely ready.  From his look the others knew a hurdle had been surmounted, a

rite de passage, in that hackneyed phrase, for another questing gay boy.  Love, affection,

trust.  He had been initiated, admitted, nay, lovingly incorporated into that select group such

as ourselves.  Even Ivo recognised that.  He remarked to me the next day that he hoped Zack

would find someone soon.

     I had a lecture at nine so rushed off leaving Oliver with Zack to clear up as the twins

were off to their rooms as both were trying to get some revision done early.  I returned, after

a quick run through of methods of attacking the problems set with both girls in the noisy

comfort of Starbucks.   Fiona came back to College with me as she was collecting us and her

brother for lunch.  As we entered my set we found Zack and Oliver deep in conversation.  It

was so obvious to all of us these two people were made for each other.  The pity was that

Oliver hadn't been with us through the night.  Perhaps not.  Zack had found a new self with

the nurturing help of two very experienced lovers.  He was ready now to find his own way.

     Fiona smiled at her brother's radiant expression.  Those deep‑set blue eyes were alive

with newfound contentment.   "As soon as I finish my exams next term," Zack said, "I'm

going down to stay with Oliver at his grandparents.  We've got a lot in common."  He smiled

back at Fiona.  "It's OK sis, we've got music and books and everything."

     Everything!  A genuine spark had been kindled.  I knew Oliver would be the gentlest

of lovers and that Zack would have a true, honest friend.  I was glad that Tris had taken that

initiative.  We had been able to share our love and passion with a truly lovely person.

     The six of us, Dina came along too, went to the Café Rouge for lunch.  It was such a

happy occasion and Dina had some news, too.  She'd been a bit perturbed about her progress

with the Applied Maths in the Dynamics course.  I'd asked Louie if he would give her a few

hints.  The few hints of a couple of weeks previously had already developed into a friendship.

Dina laughed as she said Louie's dad was a parson and her mother was a vicar as well, so

things might work out well.  Zack did a real Toad wrinkle of his nose.  "Your turn next, sis!"

Even Zacks could be Toads!

     We saw little of the twins or any of the hard‑working third year finals students for the

rest of the term.  Adam was more than content with his new tutors.  He said Simon's

insistence on rigour of thought made him feel streets ahead of most of his confreres.  Ivo and

'Tory spent so much time together ‑ dealing with French irregular habits rather than verbs

according to Adam ‑ Tris and I guessed that some announcement might be forthcoming

sooner than later.  No!  Not pregnancy but an engagement.

     In all the kerfuffle over the fire and its aftermath it was some time before Adam

surfaced with the results of his findings in Peterborough.  He'd also been to the newspaper

offices in Cambridge and had some very interesting discoveries.  We did set aside one

evening when we all gathered in my main room where he displayed his results.

     "Firstly, I found a birth.  Jason was right when he told me he thought his several times

Granny was sent off to relations in Peterborough," Adam said, pointing to a photostat of a

birth record.  "It says Adeline Mary Knott had a son, no father noted, on February the twenty

third, eighteen ninety four.  He was registered as David Arthur Knott.  Interestingly

enough...," Here he pointed to a second sheet of paper, "Mr Pennefather's full names were

Augustus Bertram Constantine David Pennefather.  The College records show his father's

first name was Arthur so it does rather fit.  Not proof but getting there."

     "Have you shown Jason this?" Tris asked.

     Adam nodded.  "Yes, I did this afternoon and he's taken a copy home to ask his father

if he knows anything more.  Unfortunately his Gran's memory is going and his Grandfather,

James Arthur Knott, died about five years ago."

     "So, if this does fit, then Jason is a direct descendant of old Augustus." said Ivo.

     I was doing a little calculation.  "February 1894.  That means about May 1893,

towards the end of his second year as he began here as a student in 1891."

     "Yes," said Adam, "I did the sums, too.  And don't forget he was at the Choir School

here from the age of eight before he went to Rugby at the age of thirteen, so he must have

known the Knott family quite well.  Jason says there were at least three Knotts working for

the College over that period of time and Adeline started as an ironer in the laundry at the age

of twelve.  She was promoted to biddy when she was just sixteen at the Christmas of 1893."

     "So she was making his bed and then warmed it too willingly....." said Ivo.

     "....And the social structure then didn't allow marriage..." said Adam.

     "...But, if the College authorities knew, would he have been given a Fellowship?

More likely kicked out on his ear," said Tris, "It must have been kept very quiet."

     "Do we know anything about his family?" asked Oliver.

     Adam held up another sheet of paper.  "His death notice says 'Last surviving son and

heir of the late Arthur Constantine Pennefather, Esquire, of Armitage Hall, County of

Hampshire and of Eaton‑square, London'.  I guess that means landed gentry and fairly

wealthy.  When I've finished my exams next term I'll try to find out more.  Where Armitage

Hall is and whether there is any surviving family."

     "Did Adeline marry?" asked Tris who was looking at the copy of the birth certificate.

     "No," said Adam, "But she was always known as Mrs Knott.  Jason says his father

thinks she worked from home as a seamstress and she definitely owned her own home in

Peterborough and she died in 1936.  She was only fifty‑nine when she died."  He held up a

further piece of paper.  "This is her death notice from the Peterborough paper."

     "What about AD," asked Tris.

     Adam laughed.  "I think I've solved that one, but there is still a mystery.  I guess AD

is Aubrey Devereux.  He was an undergraduate here with Augustus.  He was what used to be

called a Fellow Commoner.  He paid extra to eat at High Table.  I also think he took

advantage of some regulation which allowed him his degree without taking any

examinations.  But, this is what I found..."

     He waved a couple of sheets of paper this time.  "...I was looking to see if there was

any other notice about Adeline when she died.  I found her funeral notice and it gave the list

of mourners including the cryptic note 'and several  from Cambridge' at the end.  But I was

really hooked on the way the paper did the local news and I looked to see if there was

anything about Augustus as there had been articles about deaths of prominent people around

the County.  I was browsing through the 1938 issues and found this..."

     He pointed to one of the two sheets.  We could all see the headlines.  'Mystery of

Missing Executor'  "I'll read what it says:

     'The Honourable Aubrey Devereux  named as an Executor in the Will of the recently

deceased Mr Augustus Pennefather of St Mark's College, Cambridge, has been reported

missing.  Mr Pennefather, a Fellow of that College, was found below the weir on Jesus Green

some three weeks ago and Mr Devereux did not attend the inquest, nor the reading of the

Will.  Mr Devereux, scion of the famous local family and well‑known rider to hounds in past

years, had fallen on hard times since the last War and was living in reduced circumstances in

lodgings off Burleigh Street in Cambridge.  His landlady informed enquirers that he has not

been seen since the tragic death of Mr Pennefather and that all those of his few possessions

were still in his room and no rent had been paid for two months.  Any person having

knowledge of Mr Devereux's whereabouts are invited to contact Mr Partridge, Solicitor, of

King's Parade.'"

     There was a scramble to look at the report and Adam looked rather triumphant.  "I

searched on but there was nothing else that year as far as I could see.  I looked up Devereux

in Burke's Peerage and found he was a kinsman of an Earl.  His two elder brothers had been

killed, one in the Boer War and the other, I would imagine, in a hunting accident from the

death notice I found.  None of them seemed to have been married as the book doesn't list any

issue."  He paused.  "So what happened to Aubrey Devereux?  Grabbed old Augustus's spare

cash maybe and hightailed it to Paris?"

     "Or tipped Augustus off the bridge and did himself in somewhere," said Ivo very

quietly.  "As usual, we need more information."

     At least, I said, we did know a bit more about Jason's antecedents and the stuff that

Adam had found about this Devereux cleared up who was responsible for the rhyme.  He was

a rider to hounds so used a horseman's lingo when writing it.  I think they all agreed with

that.

     What a rush term was.  Next thing I knew it was the week of the concert.  The Bursar

was happy.  All tickets had been sold and the Mayor was coming.  I agonised over whether it

would be of a high enough standard.  I needn't have worried.  Dad, Mum, Gran and Toad

(preening himself as the school had been so impressed there had been no moans about him

having a day off) arrived early Friday morning and rehearsed all day.  I dutifully did my stint

by attending two lectures but Professor Tanner laughed and said an extra tutorial would be

arranged as I obviously needed the time to play during the afternoon.  He would be at the

concert and if I wasn't up to scratch I could expect extra work for the vacation.  Anyway, all

went superbly.  Mum's first group of songs were just heavenly, even though I say it myself as

the accompanist.  Dad's Mozart captivated the audience as he and Safar complimented each

other with their superb playing.

     Very few, if any, had heard the Dvorak songs before and there was rapt attention as

Mum sang these from the organ loft.  Gran and Toad got a special ovation after their first

duet.  He, immaculate in a dark red jacket and black trousers specially flown in by Uncle

Francesco, she, in a long flowing gown of the same shade of red.  Between the pair of them

they hammed it up a bit in the second piece with him coyly looking at her as he played the

lower part and she twinkled over the keys with the very flamboyant gestures of a female

Liberace.  They loved it, and the audience loved it too, especially after the second one where,

as they took their bow, he held up her left hand and kissed her fingers.  Tris and Mum with

Oliver accompanying did two duets from Gilbert and Sullivan.  There were many

appreciative chuckles as he held her hand in the second as a lovesick swain and she simpered

at his advances.  I really let go in the Lefebre‑Wely extracting every ounce of the

flamboyance and rodomontade of the most ludicrous piece anyone could have thought of

writing down.  So the first half was over and the audience seemed satisfied so far.

     I think everyone was most appreciative as Charles had had the bright idea of

including a glass of wine or whatever in the price of the ticket.  From what I could see there

was enough wine flowing for at least two glasses each and the interval was stretched a bit.  I

introduced Mum and Dad to the Club crowd ‑ even Jonty, Danny and a couple of the other

young lads were there, as well as Brad and the others.  I think Dad and Brad got on well and

Mum was chatting away to Whippet and Adam.  Frankie was everywhere.  He was even

kissed by Annabelle and Alexandra and was laughing about something with Louie and Toby

who were escorting Fiona and Dina.  I didn't realise Gran knew one of the old dons from

some shared interest in Delius or some other composer and she was well away with the

Master and his wife as well.

     Two young men came up to me as I was sipping my wine and surveying the

interactions of the multitude.  Oliver and Zack.  I could see they were just overjoyed to be

together and soon we were joined by the Commander, his wife and young Brandon.  It was

just one happy family enlivened by Charles appearing with plates of special tidbits 'Mother

had insisted I ordered'.  Liam, Sean and Jason were circulating bearing plates themselves. 

Just before the second half was to begin I saw Charles in earnest conversation with Zack and

Oliver.

     The second half was even better in my opinion, perhaps seen through the effects of

the glass of wine.  The three DuParc songs were so well received Mum whispered that she

would sing one more.  Luckily we'd gone over it and I felt so relaxed, but at the same time so

intent on doing my best, the music just flowed.  And so it did for the rest of the evening.

Each item received so much applause it was incredible.  None more so than the 'Moon

River' ensemble.  Even the Master was singing along and when they repeated the last part

again everyone was humming and joining in.  Follow that?  We did!  Gran and Frankie

excelled themselves.  Frankie was going to be a real showman and he and Gran played to the

audience who loved every moment.  I literally pulled out all the stops for the Boellmann ‑ I

had planned every quirky but proper registration as the roller‑coaster sped on and those final

few bars with the addition of the Bombarde, especially on the last bottom C, rang round the

building.  After the applause there was an expectant hush as Mum appeared at the front of

the organ loft again.  That Mendelssohn excerpt capped a superb evening's entertainment.

That last statement of 'Be not afraid' was so perfect.   I was very proud of our choir and

thanked Matt especially for the training he'd given them.

     Again there were congratulations all round and a sizeable number of the audience

were corralled by Charles and his helpers and ended up in my main room where champers

and more canapes and delicacies were laid out.  All Charles would say was 'Mother insisted'

as Jason and his helpers circulated with trays of glasses and plates of food.

     Jonty, Danny, Barry and the other lads were soon in conversation with Frankie, Zack,

Oliver and Brandon.  Dad and Mum had the three policeman, plus the Commander and his

wife, with Adam and Ivo and 'Tory in attendance, and with the crowd around Professor

Tanner, Safar and Jacob I could see what Charles had said about parties in my main room.  I

saw Toad take all the lads through to the bedroom and there were definite squeals of delight

at the four‑poster and that duvet cover.  I wouldn't hear the end of it at the Club I knew.

Luckily we'd cleared away most evidence of shared accommodation but Danny shyly came

up when they said their goodbyes and said he wished he could move in with Jonty like....  He

left the sentence unfinished.  I smiled and murmured 'You will'.

     There was a most effusive letter from the Master and his wife in my pigeon‑hole next

day as well as numerous others.  The family were staying at the Garden House, courtesy of

Uncle Francesco who had said he was sorry he and Aldo couldn't be present as he presenting

another collection.   Toad's ears had pricked up at this wondering if any of his ideas were on

show.  After lunch there we had to see his room.  "If I'd known it was a double I might have

invited one of those girls to stay over," he said.  Tris informed him that young ladies at

Cambridge weren't interested in little boys with midget willies. One would have thought the

Falklands were being invaded again.  Frankie was getting a seriously big boy and it was only

Tris's nimbleness which stopped him being annihilated.  I just stood and laughed.  The Toad

sneer was accompanied by a plaintive "It's not fair.  You've got him every night and I've got

nobody."  As I then made wanking movements with my right hand it didn't improve matters

but we did end up laughing together.  Frankie would find his somebody some day.  Also, I

didn't say anything but I got the feeling the way the Master was watching him last night he

would have little difficulty when he applied for entrance to the College.  If so, he'd also have

little difficulty enticing some nice young lady into bed, especially with that more than

adequate willy he had.

     The trip to the Royal Opera House for the performance of Tristan and Isolde was

most memorable.  It was my first attendance at a large‑scale Wagner opera though I'd heard

much of his music as Uncle Nick had CDs of everything possible.  I'd borrowed Rheingold

first when I was about twelve and listened to that and been mesmerised by both the

simplicity and the complexity of the score.  That opening E flat rising from the depths of the

orchestra really symbolised the flowing Rhine.  I realised the genius in the music, the

orchestra always pointing the story, as it happened and what was to come.  I'd listened to the

First Act of Tristan and Isolde soon after and had come to love those evocative opening few

bars.  My Tristan was captured in that phrase.

     We were in the front row of the Balcony and although the staging was rather peculiar

I just let the music flow into me, not over me, but really into me.  The betrayal of Tristan

stabbed me, too.  We sat out on the terrace during that second interval just looking at each

other and sipping the glasses of over‑priced wine I'd bought us.  I was completely lost to this

world during the last part of the Third Act.  As soon as King Mark had cried out in

forgiveness 'Mein Held, mein Tristan, Trautester Freund' and that final 'Du treulos, treuster

Freund!' I gripped my Tristan's hand as tears welled.   Tears flowed from then on, even more

as Isolde began the 'Leibestod' ‑ Love's Death ‑ 'Mild und leise wie er lachelt', so quietly, so

passionately.  I looked along the row as the music swelled 'in dem wogenden Schwall, in den

totenden Schall, in des Welt' with Isolde's held top G sharp.  Everyone had tears running

down their cheeks.   'Atems wehendem All, ertrinken, versinken, un bewusst, hochste Lust!' 

The music calmed, then swelled and that last chord for me could have gone on for ever.

There was silence.  Then an ovation.  I think I had had the most intense musical experience

of my life.  I knew Tristan had been through the same soul‑shattering, soul‑enhancing time as

well.  We said nothing as we walked to the tube station.  We said nothing as we walked

home.  I went with Tristan to his front door.  I hugged him.  "My Tristan," I said.  "My

Mark," was his response.  I went home and slept knowing we were one.

     With my first encounter with Cambridge exams looming I worked hard during the

rest of the vacation.  We three had discussed what we should do in preparation and Louie had

primed Dina about the papers saying we must really tackle as many of the long questions as

we could.  He'd given her a copy of  last year's and we sweated a bit when we saw the

complexities.  I took home a whole batch of old papers and sweated even more as I attempted

them.  Luckily all three of us had access to computers and telephones so we exchanged ideas

and solutions and I became much more confident.

     Tris was in the same boat, his Part One exams were upon him.  His marks last year

were in the First category and he desperately wanted to maintain that standard this year.  He

went up to his Dad's Chambers on several days and came back with all sorts of arcane

knowledge and hints about judgements and whatever lawyers had to know.  So between us

we studied, rested, ran through the local park, ate and loved each other whenever we could.

It was more restrictive at home.  There was generally someone around in either household

but we found no‑one disturbed us once my bedroom door was closed.  Even one afternoon

when Tris was looking up at me and whispering that he needed more, although my seven and

half inches was fully in him, and we heard Toad coming up the stairs as noisily as possible

and shouting out to Jack to put the kettle on.  We just continued with our love‑making until,

to the accompaniment of noises off in Frankie's bedroom, two stupendous orgasms

completed an afternoon of perfect bliss.  Frankie didn't even sneer when we appeared.  He

even asked if we would like some tea and an owlish Jack eyed us, but said nothing.

     I dreaded what might happen when I opened the first exam paper.  Luckily Tris and I

more or less alternated with the papers we had to take so we took it in turns to make sure the

other had plenty of sustenance, plus a good high level of loving.  Bag of nerves was nothing

each time I entered the examination halls and surveyed my glum looking fellows, but I did as

suggested and attacked as many of the long questions as possible and polished off short ones

as well.  Were they trying to weed us out, I wondered, as I tackled a horrendous thing on one

paper on Analysis?  Fiona and Dina were just as disconsolate and we vowed we wouldn't

have post‑mortems ‑ just go through our notes for the next mental onslaught.

     Tris was happier.  Several topics he'd really worked on came up so, between him

comforting me, and I listening to expositions on underlying principles of Law and so on, we

managed to survive.  Oliver just seemed to breeze his way through.   His only complaint was

that he really needed absolute silence when he was thinking about harmonising a given

theme and he was certain the candidate in the row next to him was snoring.

     Both Adam and Ivo seemed fairly confident, too.  Ivo was going to the Foreign Office

induction course in July if all was well and Adam had made his presentation to a

representative at the Australian Embassy and was assured of a bursary for research.  The

Master had said if his results were sufficient he would also be elected to a Junior Fellowship.

I was really proud of my cousins.

     Charles was also much happier.  Not only was 'that man' no longer a problem, God

rest his soul, as he said, but his delving into the ancient records of the early Servants of the

Chapel was bearing fruit.  "Dears," he burbled one evening when we'd opened a couple of

bottles of half‑price wine from Sainsbury's as the last of exams had been that day, "I can't

tell you what horrors were perpetrated in the name of education on those poor boys.  They

even had a flogging master who had to beat the poor mites quite unjustly for not

remembering their Paternoster."  He opened a notebook he'd brought in with him.  "This was

in 1560 when the Servant witnessed 'that wretch Grossteste who did chastise six of the

newest on their bareness and did take each privily unto his chamber to anoint them which for

these six passed one good hour'.   Then two days later.  "G did take privily two of the newest

without chastisement and said to me he had heard their recite until good.  Master John did

say he was used evilly but was afeared."

     "Is that what we think it is?  Did he have the kid?  And this Grossteste person got

away with it?" asked Adam taking the notebook.  He looked at the page.  "Charles, is this

true?"  He read out, "'Master John hath gone and was found at the watch gate and hath been

chastised severe on his return.  He is bedded against my cell and cries out to his Father in

Heaven as G takes into him his food.  I am minded to say to Mister Harcourt but he is not a

friend of the Chapel and doth rant against ceremony."

     "Precious, I have written what is there.  I have found that Grossteste left the College

to return to Ely in 1562.   Also, Mr Harcourt was the Chaplain appointed in 1559 after

Elizabeth, that supposed virgin, came to the throne.  He was not liked and wanted the Chapel

stripped of all its furnishings." He shook his mane.  "All seats were put in the crypt and all

the students had to stand through three services a day."

     Ivo laughed.  "I bet those with sore bums were glad they didn't have to sit."

     "Do you know who Master John was?" asked Tris taking the book from Adam.  I

leaned over to read the page.

     "Sweet one, I do," said Charles with a smile.  "He entered College as a poor scholar

in 1559 when he was fifteen.  There was a note that his mother had left him at the gate to be

taken in, 'for she was much afflicted with the dropsy'.  A little later it says she dies and the

Master gives instructions for the boy to be admitted as a scholar.  It then said that he was

good at his studies."  He laughed. "But all good comes when the Servant of the Chapel does

his duty."  He took the book from Tris and turned a couple of pages.  "'I did hear Master

John at his Latin when G was gone that night and he is with Mr Els who has poor Latin and I

did ask Mr Humphrey my tutor to hear him and he was not satisfied with Mr Els and hath the

boy now with his own.'"  He peered at some notes at the bottom of the page.  "If I am not

mistaken Master John was Mr John Fletcher who became a lector in Mathematics only five

years later."  He looked at us.  "A good Servant of the Chapel keeps an eye on his flock!"

     We all said 'Hear Hear' and raised our glasses.  Charles inclined his head in

acknowledgement.  Adam had taken the notebook again.

     "What's this?  'Master Gregory did display himself lewdly at Matins and did drop to

the floor."

     Charles nodded.  "Poor boy.  He was confined to a room but looked after kindly, as it

says, by Mr Fletcher who was also skilled in Medicine according to the records."

     "Sounds like a fit," said Ivo, "What did they wear?  Didn't have Marks and Spencers

or Debenhams in those days to get your undies from."

     "True, my dear," said Charles, "I think I can quote the requirements at that time. If I

remember correctly they had a loose robe of brown wool for summer with a shift under

during the winter."  He nodded.  "And some 'did tie a clout for the roughness of the wool'."

     "I guess the lad wasn't wearing anything under his robe and up it went as he had a fit

and kicked about," said Ivo.

     "God!  The poor little buggers must have been frozen stiff," said Adam, "I bet they

didn't have much heating around.  It's bad enough when fitness freak here opens the bloody

window when there's a gale blowing."

     "Got to keep the stink of your feet down to an acceptable level," said Ivo.

     "Boys, boys," said Charles, flapping his hands at them.  "Let us not have dissension

among us.  We have to plan for the future.  Your tasks are over and the time for the May Ball

approaches."  He looked at me and smiled.  "Jason and the Argonauts has been suggested."  I

smiled back.  He turned to Tris.  "Dear Tristan will be Jason of the Golden Fleece and there

will be a goodly crowd of returning explorers and rowers and I shall be Medea, the greatest

sorceress of all time.  My Jason shall be naked until I can conjure up his Fleece."  There was

a look of horror on Tris's face and looks of joyous wonderment on the grinning faces of the

rest of us.  "Worry not, sweetest hunk, you will have concealment of those parts of which you

are so justly proud."

     Yes, Charles had witnessed a nude, but flaccid Tris, when he had visited me a few

days previously after Tris had been to the gym and had returned sweaty ready for a shower.

Tris come into the main room dripping, complaining I hadn't put a towel ready for him,

while I was explaining to Charles that I needed to practice in the Chapel without Drew taking

up time trying to teach Tosser Fleapit, as I called him.

     Charles was in full flow.  "I shall need a ram to be placed in a pot and produce a

young lamb.  Some gnarled veteran of the Rugby Club and that sweet young cox of the

Second boat, perhaps...."

     "Cox... ...small," I said, the cogs turning.

     "My dear, I had the same thought and shared it with Ivo but we have ascertained he

has feet like veritable kipper boxes and spends all his time with some young lady rower from

Corpus Christi."  He shook his head and the silvery mane rippled.

     "Yes," said Ivo, "Meant to tell you, but I checked discretely and he rarely appears

unless needed in the boat.  I am also assured the young lady, of ample size, is well supplied

with comfort as his feet match....."

     Charles was getting agitated.  His exposition on Jason's encounter with Medea was

being interrupted.  He pointed at Ivo.  "...There are some things left better unsaid.  Let me

continue.  I have already approached young Timothy and he is willing to appear from the

cauldron.  We must ask Peter if he can construct a device to accommodate the ram and let

the lamb appear.  There will be a marriage ceremony and Jason will be found to be all a lady

desires."   Both hands went up with palms out and first fingers and thumbs touching.  He

laughed.  "Worry not.  It will be a consummation in the mind not of the flesh!"

     "Thank God for that!" murmured a relieved Tris.

     "You are dissatisfied?" asked Charles without a flicker on his face.

     Tris grinned.  "No..., ....just wondering!"

     So that would be the next production ‑ 'Medea Me Dear'.  It would also prevent

problems over partners.  I didn't think the College was ready quite yet for Tris and me to

appear as a couple at the May Ball.  I knew Fiona and Dina were now spoken for and I

suppose we could have found suitable companions among the other ladies in the College or

even elsewhere, but a part in the production meant attendance with strings attached.  In fact,

Charles then went on to instruct me on the accompanying music he required, especially for

the magical actions.  My time would be taken up.  No young lady would hang around while

her escort was missing so much.  Good!

     Tris was rampant that night.  Star part!  I was exceedingly horny myself and explored

first to see if Jason had a Fleece by tonguing all over his wonderfully hairless Golden torso.

As I nibbled his prominent nipples I counted the rowers' beats as I pulled down on each

powerful  stroke of the oars.  I got to one hundred and twenty‑two before the mighty waves

and the foaming current overwhelmed my Jason's senses and splashed his faithful oarsman.

After he recovered he called me a stupid fool and I had to endure being engulfed by a sea‑

serpent with probing and grasping tentacles and a mouth so adept in swallowing its prey.  So

adept, I was squirting more ink than a squid, he said as he surfaced for air.  We lay and

giggled and so celebrated the ending of exams.

     Term still went on.  Professor Tanner shook my hand and said I had exceeded even

his modest expectations and the young ladies had done well, too, you must all come to

Barry's birthday party.  Both Tris and Oliver were happy as well, but our stair celebrated

even more when Ivo, Adam and Matt were each placed in the First class for their BAs.  As

Charles said, as the other Jason opened even more champagne, there had not been such

scholarship on this stair since Dr Jensen and Mr Foster Senior had been the star pupils of

their year.

     So, a packed marquee screamed at the sight of Tris in the prow of his boat, discretely

hiding his lower half but tantalising the audience with glimpses of the smallest, but bulging

mightily, golden cache‑sexe to preserve his modesty until the Fleece magically appeared.  A

raucous, motley crew of buccaneers and whipped rowing slaves milled around the makeshift

stage.  One of the Neanderthal‑like rugger‑buggers with horns, long goatee and an immense

codpiece was seemingly sliced for the pot and the prettiest young lamb leapt out with tightly

curled wig, pointed ears, a fleece made as a woolly jockstrap, huge hooves to accommodate

size ten feet and a winning smile.  Having seen the lamb when being prepared I knew why

the lady rower from Corpus Christi was more than satisfied with her pet!  Big feet, big .....!

     Over all this Clarissa/Medea/Charles kept up a stream of innuendo and risque

statements which had the dinner‑jacketed and fancifully be‑gowned after‑dinner mob ‑ I

mean sophisticated male and female students ‑ shouting, clapping and screaming for more.

Especially so after the finale, where ten muscly, and certainly under‑dressed, Argonauts and

slaves, plus Tris and the animals, almost literally brought the house down as the stage and

surround shook to their version of the Folies Bergeres can‑can to my accompaniment.  When

the curtain finally came down, Tris ended up in a mock auction after we had signed our

names all over his torso with felt pens.  He was eventually knocked down to me for nine

pence, payable in yearly installments.  The photograph of him surrounded by us all was one

to be treasured.  Charles was over the moon with the reception he and his faithful band had

received for this masterpiece that no expense was spared for the sumptuous dinner that was

now set out for the exhausted cast.

     Dad brought Frankie up to Cambridge for a couple of days, as he had finished his

GCSE exams as well, and took Tris and me with him to Ulvescott Manor.  What a place!  An

old, huge manor house, with wonderful rooms and the biggest welcome you could imagine.

Safar and his wife were already there and he introduced us to his father, a tiny but very

formidable, but so friendly, Arab gentleman.  There were several other people we also met,

one of whom was another short, but obviously tough, elderly man who, Safar whispered, had

been his rescuer when he was kidnapped.  He didn't tell us more then as we were led into the

large drawing‑room where Dr Thomson was playing the organ.  This was the retired don

from Cambridge I had been told about and Safar referred to him as Dad and the elderly Arab

gentleman as Father.  Strange.  I played and then Safar accompanied my Dad on the piano as

he played a couple of pieces.  Later, Frankie was taken round the house by Dr Thomson's son

who was a medical doctor he found out.  He said the room which impressed him most was

one of the bedrooms which had photographs all round and he said he found that room so

peaceful.  The younger Dr Thomson laughed and said he should come and stay and he could

sleep in that room.  He had already felt the influence.  A strange place but we all felt so

happy there and an open invitation to visit again.

     On the way back in the car to Cambridge Frankie was strangely silent.  He was in the

back with me and kept looking at me.

     "What's up?"  I asked, "I shan't offer you a penny for them because when you have a

thought the moon will turn blue!"

     He didn't even sneer.  "Marky," he said, "You know those things we've got on our

legs?"

     I laughed.  "Yeah, those and the ears remind me all the time you're my brother."

     "Shut up and listen," Frankie was serious.  "You know that bedroom I told you about

with the photos?"  I nodded.  I'd been concentrating on the very nice Steinway and the house

organ while he was being shown that.  "Well there's a couple with boys and their legs and the

birth marks they have are just the same as ours.  I didn't say anything but that Dr Thomson I

went round with said it was a family thing and to do with his family's French heritage.  He

pointed at one photo and said it was his leg and the other's were his Dad's and his nephews

and his French relations as well.  It seemed very odd."

     "Lots of people have birthmarks," I said, "Sammy Patel has one on his arm that looks

like the map of India and..," I lowered my voice.  "...Tris has got one in a most interesting

place.."

     Frankie sneered then.  "..I know, it's just by his elbow, fool!  But I think it's odd

about these others."

     Dad had very acute hearing.  "Birthmarks?" he asked, "Runs in our family.  Your

Aunt Sophie has one, too.  Your Gran said it must be a family thing as apparently your

Grandad had one as well and Gran said it must be true as both of you have them.  I know,

they all look alike and Sophie used to try to cover hers up when she wore a swimming

costume and was most annoyed because I didn't have one."

     "But Dad, the ones in the photos and ours are all the same.  Dr Thomson said it was

probably from his French ancestors."

     "Could be," Dad said, "My Gran was French, that's why my father read French at St

Mark's."

     Tris had been listening in.  "But it can't be all French people.  Must be a family trait.

Like Hapsburg chins or haemophilia.  You know, it's inherited."

     "Funny," said Frankie sounding quite interested, "'Cos there's a big family tree

hanging in the room as well.  Have we got one?"

     "There's a family Bible somewhere," said Dad, "But that's only got the English side.

If it's French I only know my Gran came over as a governess, a glorified au pair I guess, and

stayed on and married the elder brother of the kids she was supposed to teach.  Your Gran

might know a bit more.  You'll have to ask her."

     "There's another thing," said Frankie.  "There's a photo of a boy in rowing kit...," he

looked at me again, "...And he looks quite like Marky."

     "Handsome, is he?" I said, "Then it must be my shadow."

     Frankie said nothing but he kept taking sideways glances at me.

     As we parted at the College gate on the Backs Frankie said quietly to me, "Why did

you say it was your shadow?"

     "I don't know.  But there was something about that house..."

     "Yeah," said a very thoughtful Frankie, "There was a shadow I'm sure."

     Term ended rather quietly.  I knew Oliver was meeting up with Zack for the vacation

and Aldo had e‑mailed me to find out what  plans we could make for visiting Uncle

Francesco and him at the Villa.  He said it was open house.  He slipped in an aside that

Ernesto and Guido would be there and was worried that Pietro would be left out of things.  I

took that as a definite hint that a partnership was brewing.  I asked if a larger party than usual

could be accommodated.  Just let me know was the replay.  Toad kept on about going again

and couldn't Eddie come as well?   I kept him chuntering until the last minute with strict

instructions to Eddie to say nothing but ask his father for the fare.   So e‑mails were flying

back and forth.  Sadly for the party Adam said he'd been offered the chance of a semester in

the States before he took up his Research Fellowship and as Ivo was starting work neither

would be available for a 'full holiday', as he put it, but both would be available for a

fortnight.

     Then an e‑mail arrived from Oliver.  Very terse.  'Neither I nor Z are virgins any

longer!  Love from both to all, O and Z.  p.s. delete when read.'  Very much to the point.  I

thought, right, if they could raise the ante for the flights they could join us.  An e‑mail back.

That left Brandon.  A quick phone call to his Mum arranged that as she had already had one

from Zack and was most amused, about the trip, as the deflowering was not alluded to!  I

knew Pietro was computer and game‑boy mad so all the pairs would be complete.  Gays with

gays, straights with straights, and the amount of semen to be expended would be no‑one's

business except their own.

     I did ask Charles as well what his plans were, but he was visiting Mother in the States

where La Contessa was being feted and had more work than she could possibly cope with

without assistance.  "I will amuse myself and bemoan the fact I must leave my lovely set and

labour next year in some dingy dungeon."  Whichever room the College found for him would

no doubt  be soon transformed and he would, no doubt, be most assiduous in guiding the new

Servant of the Chapel in his duties.  "A winsome young graduate from Cranwell, one of the

more illustrious institutions of the red‑brick species I am informed, and whose High Church

proclivities are beyond question or reproach," he said waving a finger.  "He will be pursuing

so far unknown documentation on the Knights Templar and their heresies for a B Phil and

will probably prove the Holy Grail is under the Round Church."  We would see how Drew

dealt with that.  High Church and happy‑clappy did not seem to go too well together and I'd

read some book about the Holy Grail, but I didn't think Cambridge was mentioned!

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