Some of the Characters Appearing

[A number of the characters appearing here also appear in Aladdin's Awakening.]

Mark Henry Foster          The storyteller

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

Frankie Foster [Toad]  The rapidly growing younger brother

Dr Jacques Thomson  Emeritus Fellow in Modern Languages

Dr Francis Thomson  His elder son and medical doctor

Ibrahim Al-Quereshi  Francis’s partner

James Antony Thomson  His younger solicitor son

 Jack [Jak] Thomson    Elder twin son of James

Dr Max Cartwright  His partner and fellow computer whizz

 Stephen [Saf] Thomson  Younger twin son of James

Chrissie [Palliser] Thomson   Saf’s wife

 Jeremy Thomson    Elder son of Saf

Andrew Thomson   Younger son of Saf

Colonel Lachlan Cameron-Thomson  Former Military Intelligence

H.E. Sheik Sayed Al-Hamed  An erstwhile Ambassador

Dr Safar Al-Hamed   A musical don: his younger son

Piers Crossley  A benevolent spirit

Miles Buchan  A second benevolent spirit

Andrew (Flea) Cameron-Thomson  Lachlan’s ever-present late brother

Jean-Antoine Leferreur  [1740-1800]  Author and progenitor 

     On the Thursday after New Year's Day there was a phone call.  It was Safar.  Would

Francis, Tris and I like to spend the week‑end at Ulvescott Manor?  Dr Thomson had much to

show us and talk to us about, and his Father and his friend, Colonel Cameron‑Thomson,

wanted to meet us properly, too.  Dr Thomson's grandsons would be there as well, one with

two boys, the second having the family birthmark.   Francis was over the moon.  He didn't

have to be back at school until the Tuesday.  Not only would he be related by 'marriage' to a

Count ‑ Uncle Francesco and Count Aldo Leopardi would be announcing the intention of

their Civil Partnership in the Times as soon as the legislation was fully passed ‑ but he would

really be related to the owner of a superb country residence.  It didn't take much to get his

dander up when addressed as Milord Frankie of  Toad Hall Five Times Removed, and the

sneers were much in evidence.

     We went by train as Dad was playing in concerts on both Friday and Saturday but he

and Mum were going later in the month.  We were met at the station on Friday afternoon by

Safar who was driving a rather old Ford ‑ not the sort of car I could see Toad had imagined

would be there to meet us for such a stately residence.  Safar knew exactly what Toad was

thinking and said his Father disliked ostentation and the official Mercedes had been given up

years ago.  I could see that Safar liked Frankie as he pointed to the front passenger seat so

Toad sat in front with him and bent his ear all the way.  He said he'd heard that Safar's son,

James, was the College's new Junior Fellow in French, and he thought, if he was accepted he

would probably do a joint degree.  Safar was heard to say that was a wise choice as long as

both his French and Music were up to scratch.   The rest of the journey the chat in the front

was in French.

     What a welcome again.  First, the gate opened and a guard surveyed us as Safar raised

his hand in greeting.  Then on getting out of the car we were greeted by the resident

wolfhound who we were told was named Drum.  The huge dog sniffed at Frankie but forbore

from chewing him as he must have remembered him from the previous visit.  We all shook

paws.  In the house Frankie was immediately taken over by the elder of the two little boys,

Jeremy, a very chatty almost five‑year old.  The younger one, Andrew, was almost three and

very quiet, but thawed when Frankie went off and came back with football shorts on and the

pair displayed identical birthmarks on their legs.  Later, seven of us, that is, the two Dr

Thomsons, father and son, the grandsons Saf and Jak and the great‑grandson Andrew, Saf's

son, with Frankie and me all lined up and a photograph was taken of the marked descendants

of  Jean‑Antoine Leferreur as now shown on the extended family tree.  A phone call to

Chester meant that Dr Thomson's other son, James the Elder, as he was known in the family,

who was a solicitor much to Tris's interest, would come down post‑haste on Saturday to

complete the array of descendants with Saf's other son, Jeremy.  Neither he nor Jeremy had

the birthmark but he wanted to see these newcomers as he called us and to get us all in focus,

as he put it.

     The other two old gentlemen, His Excellency or His Royal Highness or Sheik Sayed

Al‑Hamed as Toad gathered, his eyes popping as the titles were recited by Safar, pulling

Toad's leg saying he had to bow three times before addressing him, and Colonel Lachlan

Cameron‑Thomson looked on laughing together as the family history was revealed.

     There was instant rapport between the much older Safar and young Frankie.  I knew

Safar had the measure of Frankie and he remarked to me that Frankie was so alike in

character to James the Elder there was no doubt a family connection.  James the Pickle as he

was also affectionately known.

     Safar egged on the older Dr Thomson to tell about his own discoveries about his

family.  Frankie's eyes popped even more, and so did mine and Tris's, when a superbly

illustrated book was shown to us.  We were told it was the second edition of the translation

he had done of a story 'O Audaciam Immanem' written by Jean‑Antoine in the late 1700's for

two Englishmen and illustrated mainly by Sir Timothy Parker's wife.  I'd heard of him.  He'd

conducted Dad's orchestra many times.  The frontispiece was a very explicit nude lad  ‑ Dr

Thomson as a boy of fourteen or so.  As Dr Thomson said, you don't often get drawings done

like that by an Archbishop, as his friend was now.  Stories came thick and fast.  How the lads

in the drawings were all friends and relations.  Safar pointed at himself as a lad and said one

of the final drawings was of his son James when he was younger.  Dr Thomson said as we

were part of the family we must have a copy but it had to be read in daylight.  His son,

Francis, the medical Dr Thomson, said to take no notice.  The family had always been quite

open about such things.

     I realised about 'such things' as Francis was with a very handsome Arab gentleman

named Ibrahim and his nephew, James' unmarried son  Jak,  had his friend Max Cartwright

with him.  Later, after a superb dinner and we'd chatted more, Francis took the three of us

into the study and said quite openly that throughout the family history they'd discovered

there was a strong strand of gayness or of bisexuality.  He told us of Piers Crossley and Miles

Buchan and the strange but benevolent effect they seemed to have on the house.  He smiled,

"I don't want to intrude, but we've made up the two rooms, next to each other.  I suggest

tonight you, Mark, and your brother sleep in what we call Piers' room.  If you don't mind,

Tris, sleeping by yourself, you'll be in the 'Horsebox' next door.  I'll take you up later and

show you.  In fact, you'll find your bags already up there."

     But then, Safar and I were, by Royal Command, to play.  I played the Beethoven

Sonata No 7 in G with the Rondo in the final movement and that odd, quiet ending.  Safar

played a flute piece, accompanied by the elder Dr Thomson, and then he beckoned to

Frankie.  He had got a volume out of the music cabinet ‑ The Spanish Dances ‑ and they were

off.  If Frankie had played superbly with Gran there was something extra now.  He must have

put in hours of practice since, not only on finger dexterity but also expression.  If he'd played

the test pieces in the exam like this he would get his diploma I was sure.  It was quite late

when we dispersed up to bed.  Francis Thomson and Safar led we three up.

     Frankie had seen the main room on the previous visit.  We saw the 'Horsebox' first.

Still decorated as it had been so many years ago.  Entering the other room I was immediately

struck by something.

     "I've been here before," I said.  I stood for a moment.  "It's the room I always finish

up in when I have one of my running dreams.  It's the peaceful ending room I call it.  Just

like this."

     Tris came over and put his arm round me.  He pointed to an enlargement of a photo

on the wall.  It was of Piers and Miles.  It was uncanny.  It was a photo of Tris and me.  Safar

smiled.

     "We didn't say anything downstairs but everyone has been watching you two.  We all

knew.  There's a lot more to tell."

     Frankie spoke up.  "Marky, you and Tris are to sleep here tonight."

     We did.  A strange, dream‑filled sleep for me.  I relived things I had experienced in

some other life.  A happy life but strangely short in some ways but a continued life

elsewhere.  That must have been Piers.  There was a procession of boys, of young men, all

welcoming, all happy, men who were still alive.  But there was one in particular.  From his

looks he must have been related to the Colonel we met today.  He was like a will‑o‑the‑wisp

ever darting hither and thither.  I knew he had passed on but there was such a loveliness

about him that dispelled any of the dark clouds which, I knew, would inevitably be in any

life.  Dark forms kept at bay.  I knew Tris and I and Frankie were now part of this wide

woven fabric in time and space.  I knew we would be protected and guided whenever we

needed to be.  I heard a voice telling me to have courage and my life would be filled with

treasure of every sort.   I was awoken by a soft nuzzling just by the side of my neck.  Tris was

awake and caressing me gently.

     "Marky," he said softly, "This place is home.  I don't know why I say that, but I

know.  It feels as if I never slept last night but I am so relaxed and calm.  I've been told I've

made the right decision.  I will succeed.  I don't know who said it but a small golden‑haired

lad led me along and someone spoke so gently to me."

     I told Tris my dream.  The golden‑haired lad was the same.  I hadn't finished when

the connecting door to the bathroom opened and a dazed looking Frankie came in and

climbed into bed between us.  Nothing was said but arms were entwined and we slept again

for a least another hour.

     Frankie woke us with a start.  He sat up in bed.  "How did I get here?" he asked.  "I

don't remember."  He was silent for a moment.  "Yes, I do.  That dark‑haired boy like the

one in the photo said 'Come' and led me in here.  I wasn't frightened.  He called me Francis

and said my life was set."  He put a hand out and I grasped it.  "What did he mean?" he

asked.

     "Our dreams have been just like that, too," I said, "Just as Tris woke me I'd heard my

life was set, too, I was never to worry but always have courage and my life would be filled

with treasure of every sort.  Odd.  I worry all the time but I feel I shouldn't now."

     Three subdued teenagers got washed and dressed and went down the wide stairway

ready for breakfast and whatever lay before us for the day.  Outside the breakfast room we

were met by Safar and the two Dr Thomsons.  They all smiled when they saw us.

     "You've met our companions," Francis Thomson said.  "Piers and Miles and Flea at

least."

     "Flea?" I asked, "Fair‑haired and so lively?".

     "Lachs' younger brother," said the elder Dr Thomson.  "He was one of my dearest

friends.  We spent so many happy times together.  He was Uncle and friend to all my six sons

and their friends."

     "Six sons?" I asked.  "You said last night Francis and James were your sons."

     "It's a long, long story," said Safar as the three of them laughed.  "And I might tell

you sometime about the first time I met my brother James and brother Francis after I  and

Khaled were rescued and how Dad took on board two others.  They're both famous, not like

little me."

     Frankie had been quiet all this time.  "The boy told me my life was set and I knew I

would be happy."

     The other Francis, who matched my ever‑growing brother, put out an arm across his

shoulder.  "He told me that, too, oh so many years ago.  It's been true."

     Tris was curious.  "Why have I been included?" he asked, "I know I have been, but

I'm not related."

     Safar smiled.  "You don't have to be related in that way.  You have been accepted

just like me and my brother Khaled and my Father before me, and so many others. If you

have love in your heart you will be accepted.  There have only been one or two who have not

found peace and even those who come here who might disturb the equilibrium are usually

calmed."

     "Stroppy teenagers in general," said the elder Dr Thomson, "Like I was.  I learned a

lot here and so did my friends."

     A busy day.  We visited the workshops and the craft shops and so on.  We met the

craftsman who had made Dad's violin.  Another one and two of the apprentices had just finished building a harpsichord and it was tuned ready.  I played two of the pieces from a French Suite by Bach which were on the music desk.  I was just beginning the second piece when the Sheik arrived, with Safar and the Colonel.   He was leaning heavily on a stick but stood with the others and listened.

     "Thank you.  Now that's yours, my boy," he said as I finished.  He turned to the

craftsman.  "To be delivered to St Mark's College, Cambridge."  Before I could say anything

he turned to Frankie.  "You're just like Lachs' brother, except you're black‑haired and

getting on for a foot taller!  You and he would have been great friends, I know.  Safar tells

me you play the trumpet.  Choose any one you like and if there isn't one here they'll order it

for you."   He turned to Tris.  "My son Khaled will get in touch.  Your Law School fees you

can forget."  He held up his stick.  "No thanks.  It's me who has to thank you all for bringing

more joy into our house."

     The elderly pair were off.  Safar held up a finger before any of us could rush to thank

him.  "My Father is like that.  As soon as you arrived yesterday he said you were definitely

part of the family." He turned to me.  "It was odd.  He and Dad and Uncle Lachs had long

discussions after your father visited here and played to them.  They couldn't work out why he

seemed to fit, as it were, into the scheme of things.  It's only now knowing he is related to

Dad and to Piers that things have fallen into place.  Let's go to the café as I want to discuss

something else."

     The café was quietly busy even after Christmas and the New Year.  Safar explained

there was always a constant stream of customers because the standards were kept very high

with the shopkeepers and the craftspeople.  I was still rather dumbstruck over that most

generous gift and I could see Frankie was quite solemn for once.  A very nice waitress came

and took our order.

     As we settled down Safar looked at me.  "The something else is the matter of Simon

Finch‑Hampton.  I know he doesn't seem to fit into the scheme of things although he is

definitely related to you and to Dad's part of the family."  He smiled.  "It must be difficult

for you to sort out all the relationships here.  I talk of Dad and Father.  Just to say that my

brother Khaled and I were kidnapped because there was a family feud and my Father was

involved in our government.  It was Uncle Lachs and his team that rescued us, so long ago

now.  Dr Thomson took us in and he and his wife brought us up.  He's my Dad."  He laughed.

"I hope that's clearer.  It's not the whole story as you'll find out, but it'll have to do as a

start."  It did sound complicated but the whole set‑up seemed that way.  He went on, "It's

been very upsetting for Dad to hear about Simon.  The good thing is that he must have

recognised something in your cousin Adam.  He rarely praised anyone but I've heard him

more than once in the Senior Combination Room say that Adam was one of the best students

he'd ever had and reminded him so much of how he had been as a student earlier.  He got

rather drunk one night and I and the Physics don, Adrian Parfitt, were the only ones left and

he told us a bit about his early life.  If it's true it must have been hell for him.  He wasn't

wanted.  The two sons in the household were several years older and they tormented him and

his only respite was in locking himself in his bedroom and reading.  He won a scholarship

but the family sent him to the local comprehensive school instead where life was not easy for

a boy with a double‑barrelled name and apparently from a well‑heeled home.  Luckily the

History master recognised his talent and after he left and went to the local Sixth Form

College he gave him extra tuition and he was accepted for St Mark's.  He got the highest

History First awarded in his year and was immediately elected a Fellow.  But, he reacted so

badly to all his background."

     Frankie spoke up.  "He had a guilty secret, too.  I knew that, but I didn't know what it

was."

     "Yes, the accident, and then that fire.  I don't think we've heard the end of it all," said

Safar, "But as far as he was concerned, I think under all that harshness there must have been

a very lonely and unhappy soul."  He shook his head. "He drove his students hard and he was

recognised as a good teacher.  Adam flourished under that.   Now, Father and Uncle Lachs

want to meet him and Ivo as soon as possible.  I think they have a proposal for Adam first of

all..."  He laughed.  "...You wouldn't think that between them one ran one of the richest

countries as second in command as Ambassador over here, and the other masterminded most

of military intelligence in this country and was connected to several other countries as second

in command of all that, too.  His boss, in name, was Max Cartwright's grandfather.  General

Cartwright and Lachs were at school together.  You can prime Adam on this.  Father and

Uncle Lachs have been writing their memoirs and they want an editor.  I stuck my oar in and

suggested Adam before I knew of any relationship."  He laughed again.  "You see, the

scheme of things seems to be there.  There's a letter ready for Adam.  If he'll put off his

College history research for the next year or so he'll make his name.  I've read some of

Uncle Lachs' jottings and if the government lets him publish it, it'll be dynamite."

     I think all this was getting so complex.  Adam was to be drawn in.  He wasn't known

to be connected when discussed.  But true, there seemed to be a web connecting so many of

us.  I couldn't wait to hear what the rest of our family would have to say, starting with Dad

who must have carried the birthmark inside just as Dr Thomson said his son James had.  And

what about forthright Aunt Sophie, who as far as was known was the only female so far in

the family history to have had the birthmark?  I suppose things like that would be less likely

to be revealed with girls and ladies in the past with all the restrictive dress and the social

strictures on showing even ankles in public.  I could only imagine her reaction and the

laughter which would boil up when she descended on this almost exclusively male

establishment.  Her ebullience and good humour enlivened every gathering I had been in with

her.

     Even after this there was more to come.  After lunch I was browsing in the Library

and was amazed at the range of books.  In fact, one set caught my eye.  A row of leather‑

bound volumes some with familiar titles, 'Bow Bells Ring Twice', 'The Camberwell Beauty

Case', 'Murder at the Adelphi'.  I had those three in now elderly paperback editions.  I

remembered the very twisted plots, full of surprises, but unravelled by the very erudite

Inspector Buck.  I also remembered Dad telling me of the general astonishment when the

author was revealed as a woman.  I was looking at one I hadn't got, 'All Change at King's

Cross', when Jak came up behind me.  He looked over my shoulder.

     "Shan't tell you the ending, but that's one of my favourites.  I didn't realise it but I

watched Ma writing some of that one," he said laughing.

     "Ma?" I asked.

     "My Great‑Grandma.  She was Grandad Thomson's mother.  She must have been

over eighty when she wrote that one.  I think it was the last one she wrote."

     "J L Fountain was your Great‑Grandmother?"

     "Fountain, Fontane.  The French connection.  There's brains all over the family.  Glad

you've joined us."  He laughed.  "Glad you're gay, too.  I have to keep telling my brother

there's more to life than breeding.  Only joking, but being a twin, too, means I have to keep

my end up, pardon the expression."

     "You've heard my cousins are twins, too, and after what we discussed last night I'm

certain Adam is at least bi."

     He nodded.  "It's all in the family.  We've been OK but Maxie had a bit of a rough

time.  His Dad was not too happy to say the least as he was a General's son and thought it

wasn't quite the thing to have a gay son himself, but as soon as Max settled down with me

and finished his doctorate, things were smoother.  And his Grandad's been a real brick, kept

the peace and couldn't have cared less."

     I was nosy.  "Someone mentioned computing last night.  Is that what you do?"

     "Yep.  The four of us, that's Saf and Chrissie and us two, we have this firm dealing

with computer security.  Max did Maths at Oxford, then did his doctorate on mathematical

models for computer networks and on the way discovered a set of particular algorithms

which didn't get into the thesis and we use them in our programming.  Only the four of us

know the basis of them."  He laughed.  "Shouldn't tell you all this as you're a

mathematician...."

     "Only in my second year," I said. 

     "I know, but you might be useful in the future!"

     "I play the organ, too!" I said, "I might be better at that!".

     "We know!  Grandad's over the moon about that.  You'll be a permanent fixture here

I see.  And you don't mind me saying but your Tris is something, too....."

     "Caught you trolling again have I, brother dear," came a voice from the doorway.

"Can't leave him two minutes and he's after handsome young men again.  Wait till I tell

Max."

     In came the other twin.  I'd had difficulty the night before telling them apart.  They

were just as identical as Ivo and Adam and it sounded as if they spoke to each other in the

same way.

     "Sorry if he's making advances, Mark, he's led by his insatiable urge..." He grinned.

     "...Aren't we all," I said.  "I suppose when you get to the age of thirty it's still there to

some extent!"

     "Cheeky little whipper‑snapper," said Jak, "If he wasn't the same size as me I'd tell

you to deal with him, but on the other hand..."

     "What's that," another imposing figure entered, followed by a laughing Tris.  It was

Max.  "Who's referee, you?  If I didn't keep the pair separated all you'd get is yap, yap, yap,

all day long."

     "It sounds just like his cousins.  We've missed them this term," said Tris, "It's almost

been silent."

     "As the grave, I hear," said Max, "Tris has been telling me about the discoveries.

Can't say  anything so exciting happened in my time at Oxford.  A few of the dons were

covered in dust and cobwebs and we only knew they were alive when their false teeth fell out

if their rice pudding was too tough.  God, there was one maths don whose claim to fame was

that his father was taught by Lewis Carroll when he was a student."

     That set us off telling about Augustus and his photographs of the choristers.  Of

course, Grandad was related, so photos of him would have to be donated.  I was grinning as I

thought of the twelve almost nude studies.  My grin was noticed and I had to say about those

photos and was commanded to have copies made for the wall of the bedroom to go by the

framed drawing of their Grandad Thomson..  Their boast was that they were in 'the book' as

well.  A copy was opened and being well‑hung seemed to run in the family.  But then, Tris

was, too.  Perhaps by association.  I didn't mention that then, but even though the three of

them were at least thirty they seemed no older than us and the conversation was most

definitely unrestrained.

     We hadn't really missed Frankie in all of this.  We found he'd been taken over again

by the two small boys who had taken him, accompanied by the guardian wolfhound, to

explore the grounds and see a churchyard memorial and the previous dogs' graves.   He had

just returned with them when there was a great commotion.  The lads rushed off.  Grandpa

had arrived.  This was James Thomson the solicitor.  Frankie, Tris and I had a critical eye run

over us and before he could say anything his wife stepped forward.  "Whatever he says, take

with a very large pinch of salt!"

     "Stymied again!" he said, "Anyway, I'm James the Pickle as Dad will have no doubt

informed you.  I don't have the birthmark outside but it's obviously inside as I've passed it

on to one of my pair."  He looked at Frankie and me.  "Right drop your breeks.  I need to

check your credentials."

     Whether he was serious or not there were hoots of laughter as we complied

immediately and bare legs were displayed with the trademark birthmark.  The young lads

were giggling with glee and young Andrew had to pose with us for his Grandpa's inspection

as well.

     Of course, he knew the firm of  Phillips, Van Zyl and Partridge, so Tris was

congratulated on choosing 'a fine career and a fine firm to work for'.

     Before dinner we all had to perform again.  This time I played the organ.  A very

sweet‑toned instrument but with some bite as well.  I  played some French pieces Lewis had

gone over with me, mainly for manuals, but tuneful and full of interest.  Frankie then played

the whole of the Beethoven 'Waldstein' Sonata, one of my great favourites, and beat me as

he played most of it from memory.  After Safar and Dr Thomson had played a duet Frankie

produced his new trumpet and with Safar accompanying him played the first movement of

Haydn's Concerto in E flat.  As they reached the end Safar's Father nodded and they went on

and played all three movements.  The old gentleman called Frankie over and placed both

hands on his.  Nothing was said but Frankie told Tris and me later he felt he had been

blessed.

     That later was when we were together in that wide bed.  We three slept together that

night.  Frankie held between us.  And when we woke it was as if we hadn't moved.  Tears

were running down Frankie's face.  "The boy kissed my forehead and said I should never

have hatred in my heart and I should bring my sons here in the future.  When I was with the

little boys yesterday I knew I wanted sons of my own.  And they wanted to be with me.   Am

I being silly?  I'm just seventeen....."

     There had been a stillness in the night.  There had been love and affection and such a

presence.  "Frankie," Tris whispered, "It will be your duty to have sons and bring them here.

That's all.  Whenever."

     We left on Monday morning full of joy and sadness.  Sadness at having to leave such

a lovely place but joy with all we had experienced and the invitation to visit again and again.

There was still much to learn.  Tucked in our bags was a copy of the translated book plus a

copy of 'All Change at King's Cross' which Dr Thomson gave me which had been signed by

his mother.  I would treasure that.  In Frankie's hands for the whole of the journey home was

a thick volume.   'Paul's Odyssey' written by a friend of Dr Thomson's.

     Homecoming was tremendous.  Dad had brought the car to the station and Frankie

couldn't stop talking.  I must say his memory was accurate for all he said.  We sat round the

dining table and went through all the documents we had been given.  The family tree, copies

of birth, marriage and death certificates, photos and prize of prizes, a copy of that old photo

of Piers and Miles.  The looks on their faces, so loving, so knowing, so tender.  There was a

photo of the memorial board at their old school with the young Jacko Thomson standing with

the young Lachlan Cameron‑Thomson and his brother the smiling, Andrew, 'Flea'.

     Dad said he'd had some presentiment when he visited Ulvescott Manor but he didn't

know or realised what it was.  They were going for the weekend at the end of January which

included Burns Night.  Toad was going as well and was determined to wear a kilt.  I said he'd

better watch it as that dog might take a fancy....  The Toad sneered.

     Mum and Dad were a bit worried about the gift of the harpsichord.  I pointed out to

Dad that he had the violin which as far as the man in Hill's was concerned was even more

valuable.  And they were gifts from the heart.  Frankie was very serious when he said he

knew they were from the heart.  The trumpet he had chosen was top‑range and very costly,

but he didn't know that when he tried them out.  He said when the Sheik had held his hand

he knew he had been accepted and he had whispered 'You are chosen'.  What did he mean?

     Tris and I were in my room later when Frankie knocked and came in.  We had the

translated book on the desk between us and were taking it in turns to read out the text and

then waiting while we studied the drawings.  We glanced at each other even after the second

page.  There was no mistaking the effect the book was having on us.

     "Got something to ask you," he said, very quietly for Frankie.  "Did you, you know,

...do anything while you were there?"

     Tris looked at me.  We had already mentioned the fact.  "No, Frankie," he said,

"There was no need.  Just being there was enough.  I felt that we were being loved all the

time.  I know next time we go we will have to show our love for each other."

     "I felt the same," I said.

     "I'm being truthful," Frankie said, "But I didn't feel the need either."  He grinned.

"Three days!  Longest time ever..."

     "...Usually three hours, eh?" said Tris.

     The nose screwed up.  "But serious.... ....But there's this book, too."  He held up the

one he'd been reading.  "The house the boys visit in this must be the same one.  There's lots

that happened there.  You'll have to read it and it'll make you....."

     "....Not as much as this one," said Tris.  "This is definitely not for little seventeen‑

year‑olds.  You read this and you'll be skinned worse than Brandon and Pietro."

     "Huh, just because you're ancient and getting past it....."

     A Toad had his trousers lowered and his nice seventeen‑year‑old backside slapped

gently by two laughing ancient ones, who it must be admitted were having more of a job now

in holding onto him, perhaps due both to the increased size of the Toad and also to the

uncomfortable erections engendered by the other book.  He yelled and screeched quite out of

proportion to the taps he was being given.

     "Will you two put him down, please, and come down here!"  Mum's voice from the

bottom of the stairs rose even above the noise he was making.  "As you are home and doing

nothing you can lay the table.  And I mean both of you!!"