Date: Fri, 24 Nov 2006 11:54:42 +0000
From: Jo Vincent <joad130@hotmail.com>
Subject: Mystery and Mayhem at St Mark's: 15b
Mystery and Mayhem At St Mark's
by
Joel
Some of the Characters Appearing or Mentioned:
Mark Henry Foster The story-teller
Tristan (Tris) Price-Williams His well-proportioned boyfriend
Gordon Foster Father of Mark and Francis: Fiddles for a living
Maria (Angelica Matteoli) Foster Mother of Mark and Francis: Teaches
singing
Francis Michael [Microbe] Foster Alias Toad: just growing and wondering
Ivo Richie Carr Mark's cousin: chunky and cheeky with it
Adam Benjamin Carr Ditto, as his twin
Albert Tomkins A Head Porter with an elephantine memory
Jason Knott An Assistant Porter with long antecedents
Dr Safar Al-Hamed A knowledgeable Music don
Charles Fane-Stuart The 'Servant of the Chapel' and Footlights star
Rev Dr Basil Henson A very astute Chaplain
Dr Eric Mays Master of St Mark's College
Aubrey Fullerton QC A celebrity Law don
Francesco Matteoli Designer and uncle of Mark and Francis
Aldo Leopardi Companion of Uncle Francesco: Charles's father
Mirabelle Fane-Stuart Mother
Oliver Jensen A Musical undergraduate with allure
Matthew Thyssen Another organ scholar [1999] studying English
Drew Penry-Jones A third organ scholar [2000] studying Natural
Sciences
Mr Simon Finch-Hampton A two-faced History don
Professor James Tanner A formidable Mathematics don
Fiona McKenzie A Mathematical undergraduate with presence
Dina Patel A Mathematical undergraduate with prescience
Dudley Woolpit A Detective Sergeant, a leatherman off duty [Whippet;
Dude]
Carl Bachmann A Detective Constable, a leatherman off duty [Carlo;
Batman]
David Davies A good-looking student nurse, nursing a desire
15. [Part Two] My First Few Days: October 2001
"OK, Ollie, what's the news?" asked Ivo, "Is that oaf Grunty Gott
still shagging the arse off all the soccer team? And, what about Wanker
Wilson? I never, ever, got the hang of simultaneous equations after he
tickled my backside with that half metre ruler."
It was explained that Gunther Gottfried was a German exchange student
who had come across and had stayed on. He was two years older than the
form he was put in and had been caught in flagrante delicto on two
occasions by Prefects in the back of the gym indulging in sexual acts of an
unspecified nature. It was rumoured that on both occasions nothing was
done as he offered his services to the finders. At least that was what Ivo
said. And, no, he wasn't one of the Prefects! Oliver said he'd left the
school but rumours abounded. They laughed about Wanker Wilson who had a
stutter and taught Maths and wielded a very useful deterrent to classroom
disobedience. Ivo said he'd tasted it's effect when he was inadvertently
overheard imitating Mr Wilson's speech impediment.
"Of course," said Oliver, tucking into a piece of fried bread
surmounted by two slices of bacon, "Adam's still remembered fondly for that
night he had a drink or two too many at that away match and he watered the
flower-beds from the roof of the House. There's a rather blurred photo
still passed round....."
"Oh, my God!" said Adam, "That creep Barty Meldrum used his flash and
said I could have the negative for five quid. He had sore balls for a week
and I never got the neg! Bastard! You can't see it's me, though. The one
he showed me before he doubled over, just had my lower half." He gave his
brother a two-fingered salute. "And whatever you say, it does show a
well-hung young man!"
"Got you gated for a fortnight, though! And I got the same as some
sneak said I was up there with you. I wasn't. I was watering the same bed
at ground level and nearly got pissed on by you, you great oik!"
"Were they always as noisy as this at school?" asked Tris. "I was in
your set last year and was often disturbed by unholy clatter from above."
Oliver smiled. "Oh, yes, notorious!" He shook his head and grinned.
"But I'm very fond of the pair of them. Actually, Ivo wouldn't let me play
rugger in case I did get bashed in the mouth. Marty Carpenter in my year
did and lost two front teeth. And Adam, bless his little heart, used to
take me and the other oddballs running, just to keep us fit. Kind hearts
and no coronets!"
Well! Ivo and Adam had the wind taken completely out of their sails.
I knew, of old, they were all wind and piss and hadn't an evil bone in
their bodies. Oliver knew that, too. And from the look that Adam gave him
I knew Adam was more than fond of that very handsome lad.
Tris sat and smirked at the pair. He solicitously asked if they
wanted more coffee, a chocolate digestive perhaps, a slice of his mother's
cake? Tris was storing up trouble for himself I was sure.
As it was the day for Freshers to join Clubs, Societies, Christian
Unions, Mothers' Unions, what have you, with other students beginning to
appear to run things, we all split up again. I also had to juggle my
invites for sherry, etc., so I sat at the dining-table and sifted through
the pile. Master at 12 noon, Chaplain at 12 tomorrow and Dean at 6 pm,
Moral Tutor, I saw this was Mr Fullerton, at six this evening, University
Music Society lunch on Saturday bring instrument if portable, they just
went on. I must pace myself! The little man hammering!
Oliver had gone off wearing my dressing-gown and came down about ten
minutes later very smartly dressed with, I noted, almost a copy of a
Matteoli sweatshirt on.
"Thanks for lending me this," he said as I called him in. I had left
my doors open. I pointed towards the bedroom door and said just stick it
on the bed. As he passed me engrossed in my task he said, "Oh and thanks
for breakfast. I'll reciprocate if I can find anything around to cook
with."
He came back out and stood by me as I sorted the rest of the cards
into three mental piles, 1. Must, 2. After Money, 3. Query After Arse. He
seemed a bit diffident then he spoke. "Please don't mind me asking," he
said slowly, "You and Tristan?"
Of course, not only the pair of us together, half-dressed, but going
into the bedroom where an unmade, rumpled double-bed with cast off clothing
scattered around.....
I stood up, looked him straight in the eye and smiled. "Yes, Tris and
I are lovers. We've committed ourselves to each other and we sleep
together and live together, where and when."
His smile returned. "I understand. Thanks for telling me. Not a
chance for me, then! Don't tell the twins. But I think they've guessed.
They were very good to me at school and once I got to the Sixth Form I
wasn't pursued by every sex hound -" He shook his head. " - and there's
plenty in every Public School. Everyone tells me I'm good-looking and
that's the reason, but I've never found anyone yet." He grinned. "When I
met Tristan yesterday I did feel something and the same when I met you."
He shook his head again but smiled. "You are both very, very lucky. We
can be friends, though?"
I stepped forward and hugged him. "Oliver, I have to tell you I was
smitten. I think Tris was as well." I laughed. "I shall have to keep him
on a very short lead but I think you've already made two other good friends
as well as the terrible twins. Actually, we'd better stick together for
the next few days as Tris tells me life gets a bit hectic."
"Thanks, Mark," he said, returning the hug. "I don't want to make any
mistakes. Dad knows and he said I had to be careful. You'd better keep an
eye on me..." He laughed "...but I'm not so innocent as I may look."
We went off together. We both made ourselves known to the Secretary
of the College Music Society who seemed quite impressed that I was the new
Pennefather Scholar. We were also grabbed by his companion representing
the Cambridge University Music Society who was looking a bit tired of
confronting overlarge young men who might be proficient tuba or bass
trombone players and so was able to sign up an oboist and a clarinettist,
first rehearsal next week, don't forget lunch on Saturday! We avoided the
Rugger stand where Adam was touting for custom, mainly by handing out cans
of Heineken or Newcastle Brown. Yes, I could see why Tris had the hangover
last year. Every stall, except the outright religious ones, had an array
of cans or boxes of wine and there was a growing level of noise, especially
from those who were joining every club available. While Oliver was chatting
to Tris on the Basketball stand I wandered over to Charles who was
dispensing wisdom to anyone still lost.
"Dearest one," he groaned, "One would have thought mothers would have
told their young about such things as laundries or washing-machines. The
number who think the pixies will come and collect their unclean
unmentionables is overwhelming. And to think I have to point them in the
direction of the basement where naughty young Knott is demonstrating how to
put fifty pence in a slot!" He shook his mane. "But I have something for
you." He reached into the pocket of what looked like an eighteenth century
frock coat he was wearing under his gown of office. It was an envelope
with a hand-written inscription, Mark Foster ARCO ARCM. Inside was a
hand-written card inviting me to the dinner at seven thirty for eight at
the Garden House Hotel for Saturday week. "You will come, won't you, I
will need all the support I can get on this momentous occasion." He
sighed. "Mother is undecided what to wear and I have said we are not
wearing black tie. Neat not gaudy."
Right, I had been told! I wondered what I should wear? I knew!
He looked past me. "Don't look now but I spy 'you know who' making
advances to two of the young ladies. I would have thought his experience
last term would have warned him off trying his luck without further
investigation. I saw one of the pair signing up for the Ladies' Rugger
Club and she is of a somewhat Rubenesque aspect...."
"So you know what happened? Tristan told me."
"Dear Annabelle apprised me of his unwanted advances to Alexandra and
the severity of the consequence. I hoped he was damaged permanently but
apparently the Priapic impulse has asserted itself again. Oh dear, he
approaches."
My second encounter with Mr Finch-Hampton.
"My dear sir," Charles addressed him as he came up to the table, "Let
me introduce our new Pennefather Organ Scholar, Mr Mark Foster. I think
you have met before but he is now the worthy successor to that honourable
office."
I could only be polite. I stuck my hand out. "Very glad to meet
you," I said, enjoying the moment, "I understand you are my cousin's tutor.
He's Adam Carr. We did meet when I came for my interview and you had a
mis-typed schedule." I felt a real bloody creep.
The look he gave me would have curdled milk, blood, or any other
substance, but he, too, was polite. He shook my hand and stared me in the
eye. "Your cousin, though a trifle rambunctious, is a fine student, I hope
you will be, too!" The look he gave Charles as he turned on his heel would
have merited the sign Guido showed us to ward off the evil eye. Charles'
face was passive. Two hands were raised and I went off smiling. I didn't
think I would be unduly boisterous but hoped the second.
Matt Thyssen had turned up so our stair was now complete. We went to
the Chapel and he showed me where all the music was kept. He said the
choir was going to be twenty strong this year as we had several incoming
young ladies joining who would boost the soprano and alto line. The duty
rota, kept by Ivo, showed I was responsible for the early eight o'clock
service on Mondays and Thursdays and the other two had the other weekdays.
Sundays we took it in turn, all three were supposed to be present at the
eleven o'clock Mattins and Communion and for the fortnightly special
Evensong, but we could make our own arrangements as to who played. He said
usually only the Chaplain and the designated reader plus any ordinands and
two or three of the more dedicated divinity students turned up for the
early mornings, but he used the time after for practice. He was aiming for
his FRCO after Christmas, would I try as well?
I said I would give it a year, I needed tuition. He said talk to
Safar whose pal Lewis Richards was the Music Fellow at another College and
he was tutoring him. Safar was helping him with the paper work. I asked
at what stage did one call tutors by their first names. He laughed and
said it depended on the tutor or their job. I would find out soon enough!
I then asked about Drew, who was now in his Second Year. Matt wrinkled his
nose. "What he does is good. His group last year played well and they
drew in a lot of born-agains but I prefer the ritual and the proper music,
as I call it. We'll have to see. Trouble is there is a faction who thrive
on any dissension and with Finch-Hampton behind them it could get awkward.
Drew's actually said the Chapel is immaterial as far as worship is
concerned and that's been latched onto."
That confirmed what I'd heard from Tris and the hints from Charles. I
looked round the Chapel and thought of over six hundred years of worship on
the site. I might have doubts but I was beginning to get a sense of
history here. Our St Barnabas was built sometime in the late 1800s to
serve a growing population, but this place had resounded to the prayers and
devotions of so many over all those years.
Matt hadn't heard me play so he asked me to. There was a very old
copy of Bach's 'Eight Short Preludes and Fugues' on the top of the music
cabinet. I opened it at number 5 in G major. Just right. I could show
off finger-work and a pedal passage in the Prelude and a good build up for
the Fugue. He nodded approvingly when I finished.
"Your turn," I said and slid off the bench.
He turned the page, number 6 in g minor. The first Bach I had been
introduced to on the organ. It was perfect.
"My first," he said, "And my favourite."
"Me, too, and mine," I said. I looked at the book. "That's an old
copy."
"Yes, I think it's Drew's. He's giving Jeremy Foskett lessons. I
said no as he wants to run before he can walk. I don't have the patience
and I think Drew's after his soul as well. Mustn't be catty but..."
I said my brother and his friend had experienced Drew and his tracts.
I didn't expand on Laurent's interpretation of the content.
"Watch it, he can cause a lot of trouble if we're not careful." He
looked at me carefully. "You're not born-again?"
I shook my head and repeated what I had told the Chaplain. "I have my
doubts, but..."
"Same here," he said and smiled.
I had to be at the Master's before lunch and joined a queue of
Freshers being regaled with a good selection of wine and tidbits. The
Master recognised me and held up the receiving line while he congratulated
me on my appointment and hoped I would be happy at the College. I felt
quite happy after two glasses of red wine and an assortment of bits and
pieces. Sean, the lad from the servery now as purveyor of the goodies was
arrayed in striped waistcoat, bow tie and black trousers. I chatted to two
or three others and was drawn into a group with some of the new girls. My
experience of girls was limited and I expected giggles and flirtiness. No,
these were serious and seemed very mature. I knew I was being eyed
speculatively and rather enjoyed it. When I said I was reading Maths I was
immediately commandeered by two of the girls who seemed streets ahead of me
in confidence and self- possession.
"Who is your tutor?" asked the first, who introduced herself as Fiona.
"Professor Tanner," I said rather too off-handedly.
"You are lucky," said the other, a very elegant Asian girl, Dina, "You
must be good, he only takes the best."
Only the best! I felt about two inches high. I must have sounded a
right nana. "I didn't know that. I just applied and was accepted."
Mustn't boast now. "But, I'm really the new organ scholar."
"Pennefather?" asked Fiona. I nodded. "My father was that about
twenty-five years ago. That's why I'm here," she said. "I wanted to go to
Warwick, Maths is good there but Dad insisted I tried here. Didn't get a
look in at Warwick. Still mustn't grumble. What a place! Murders and
all! But we'll meet up, no doubt, I've been dragooned into the choir as
well!"
I didn't comment on that. But why say 'murders'? The only one in the
papers was Bryce's and that was only on the inside pages as far as I knew.
"Oh," said Dina, "I'm in the choir as well. I thought I'd better be
as I'm reading Maths and Mum said I'd better get involved in something.
Better tell you she's a lady vicar. Dad's a doctor and was rather annoyed
because I didn't want to read Medicine."
"Oh God, parents!" said Fiona, laughing, "Dad's a Commander in the
Met.
Funny career after doing Music here but he says he likes it. Mum just
stays at home and looks after my stupid little brothers."
Oh, so Dad's a copper. But why should she know? - and more
importantly - why has the Metropolitan Police got involved? Brothers!
Mine definitely wasn't stupid. Exasperating, yes! Stupid, no!
Girls! These seemed OK. I was contemplating this when a familiar
figure came up brandishing a clipboard in one hand and a glass of red wine
in the other. It was Ivo.
"Right, ladies, leave my little cousin alone as I need to know if
you've signed up for all on offer. Ladies' Rugger, Boat Club, Hockey,
Lacrosse, plus Cricket in the summer if it ever arrives. Don't forget
we'll be visiting all the fleshpots of the city on Saturday evening and you
may need a companionable escort. Males available on demand. Look around."
"It's OK," I said, as Fiona and Dina stared and the giggles did start.
"He really is my cousin and harmless, just never grown up, like all stupid
little boys."
I got a conspiratorial grin from Fiona. "Are you on offer?" she asked
him, "How much an hour? Or does the first hour come free!"
"Free as a bird," said Ivo, flinging his arms wide, "But I may be
spoken for. There's always my brother, but he's submerged in more feminine
pulchritude over there at the moment."
Fiona looked at me. I shook my head. "Sorry, I'm spoken for as
well."
The Master was drawing the little ceremony to a close. We started to
drift off. Tris was waiting outside so I joined him. I saw Fiona give us
a quizzical look. I nodded. She smiled.
Tris and I spent the afternoon exploring my set. We found all sorts
of old clobber in the cupboards in the kitchen passage - not only old organ
pipes but various bits of old kitchen equipment and several boxes of old
books and magazines and sundry items of ancient sports clothing including a
very old, yellowed jockstrap which I said I would give to Frankie as it was
a forty inch waist with a huge pouch. We tidied things up and felt like an
old married couple in their new home. I said I would sleep in his set
tonight with him and he'd better not think he had a proprietorial right to
my bed as I might want some peaceful times by myself. He laughed.
"Bet you won't be celibate more than one night before you're pleading
for my body. I might look elsewhere!"
I shut him up with a hug and then I told him about Oliver's confession
to me this morning. He said he had wondered, perhaps his gaydar was
working. We discussed this rather interesting concept and decided it might
be rather dangerous to assume. We ticked off friends and acquaintances and
decided we both wondered about Adam and was Guido just getting his rocks
off or was he really gay, or perhaps bi? I then said about Fiona and her
smile as we met outside. She knew. I also said about her statement about
murders?
"Mustn't dwell on those two," said Tris, "Best forgotten."
We just had time for just a quick hug before getting spruced up again.
As Mr Fullerton was his tutor Tris had been invited as well to the Moral
Tutor meet.
At six we were ushered into a very elegant set of rooms on the other
side of the quad. The main room was lined with bookshelves with volumes
and volumes of Law Reports. "Luckily," whispered Tris as I stared in
amazement, "Most are on-line now!"
I liked Mr Fullerton and was well into my second glass of wine with
two other lads discussing our first days in College when Mrs Fullerton came
in with Fiona and Dina. They grinned when they saw me. I introduced them
to Tris while Mrs Fullerton took the two lads over to her husband who was
dispensing the wine.
"This is Tristan Price-Williams," I said, "My best friend! He's
reading Law and he's starting his Second Year. He's in the choir, too."
They introduced themselves and we had the usual sort of conversation,
much like the one we'd started this afternoon. Both girls were left with
no illusions about our relationship I was sure. Both girls seemed quite
accepting of it. We would have to see what might happen once the word got
round.
That night I went up with Tristan to his set. It was strange sitting
in the room my Grandad had inhabited fifty odd years ago. When we went to
bed it was a tight squeeze but we found that two tall, slim boys fitted
well side by side as we kissed and loved each other slowly and tenderly.
Later I lay awake spooned up against Tris's back as he fell asleep and
pondered how Grandad had slept in this room as a young man back from the
War. What had been his thoughts? He had been a clever man. I hoped I
wouldn't let him down. I thought of the smiling young boy in the photo
Grandma had sent me. It was as if his presence was with me as I too fell
asleep.
It was odd. We were both woken by a strange humming and seeming
rushing and movement behind the wall behind the bed. As far as we knew it
was a solid wall, the other side was a bit of garden. We lay and listened
and the noise subsided. It was six o'clock. A pale light was coming
through the window on the opposite wall. Tris had turned and was holding me
with one arm round my back.
"Thought it was Bryce," he whispered. "I'm daft. I'm glad you're
here though."
I hadn't been frightened. Just puzzled. I reached down and felt his
erect cock. "You couldn't have been too frightened. This isn't limp and
drooping."
No more was said and two streams of the night's manufacture were
liberally expended between us. "Better give Jason fifty pence for the
washer," I whispered, "Or your sheets will be heavily starched as well."
We clutched each other and giggled.
"Half an hour to rest then you're coming for a run," said Tris,
"Today's a one-off as you're not lying around masturbating every morning.
If you need you can paint the walls of your shower afterwards." He tickled
me in the region of my lowest rib. I squirmed. "You'll only get fat and
unhealthy sitting around all day. We'll get Oliver as well. Piss off now
and find something to run in and we'll go to that shop along by Sainsbury's
this morning and get some proper kit for you."
I went and found my old rugger togs which I'd stowed at the bottom of
a bag. I was just tying a bow in my second lace when Tris came in looking
so handsomely athletic in cute dark red running shorts, a dark red St
Mark's sweat shirt and proper running shoes.
"OK, I gave Ollie a knock and he was up and he's coming, too. I
didn't try the Thugs as they were fairly well-hammered last night."
Another vision of loveliness appeared. His old school outfit.
Running shorts he looked as if he'd been poured into and the most
deliciously hairy legs which almost matched my own rather over hirsute
appendages. Adam had remarked if they got any hairier I'd have to change
my name to Marcus Tarantula. Tris's great joy in Italy was stroking the
thick growth just above my knees after I'd anointed myself with sun oil and
then twisting together a dozen hairs or so at a time so my thighs looked
like miniature dark porcupines as I lay sunning myself. I felt I would
love to do the same to Oliver. Thoughts of inviting him to Italy in the
future.....
"Come on, you two," Tris commanded, "We'll go slow as no doubt Marky
will puff and pant." Luckily he didn't add that I, and that meant we
really, had already expended a certain amount of energy since waking. "Not
too far this morning but I expect to increase the distance daily!"
Daily? Anyway, it wasn't too bad. We ran across the Backs and then
down by the river towards Grantchester. About a mile, then a mile back. I
wasn't too puffed.
"We might as well use his shower," said Tris as we arrived back at our
staircase case. "It's bigger than mine and the water will be hotter."
I found towels for them and we all went into the bathroom and stripped
off. We let Oliver shower first and openly admired his body and his
equipment as he stepped out and began to dry his head and hair. The warmth
of the water had plumped out his length. It was impressive and I felt a
slight twinge around the rear as I contemplated what that might feel like
if inserted. No! I had Tris and his seven and a quarter inches was mighty
enough for me! While he finished drying off I went to the kitchen and
found there was still some bacon and about half a loaf of white bread left.
Oliver came through in the nude and I suggested he might like to cook but
to tie a towel round his waist in case of hot fat splashing. I went back
to the bathroom just as Tris was emerging. I whispered "Nude" and he
nodded.
The pair of them were laughing about something as I also went into the
warm kitchen where an inviting plate of rashers was being added to.
"Telling Ollie about the divine Clarissa and the last performance. I said
we should suggest Dick Turpin next with the emphasis on dick!" They turned
and Oliver whipped off the towel round his waist. Side by side they
matched. Oliver was no longer than Tris as he drooped, just slightly
fatter.
"You're just a pair of exhibitionists!" I said. "It's a wonder I
didn't find the pair of you on the kitchen table demonstrating a position
in the Art of Gay Sex!" Not that I'd seen a copy, just a few illustrations
when browsing on the Toad's computer before he got home from school one
day. Yes, and I did know about deleting the history file!
"I wouldn't mind but no chance," said Oliver, grinning, "He's booked
and he's made that quite clear." He slapped Tris's backside as he looked
down at him and across at me. "You're both well-made as a departed PE
master said about three of us kids when we got out of the showers after one
of Adam's runs." He laughed. "He had to go when he suggested a nude
calendar of the First Fifteen without any of the discreetly placed rugger
balls which he said could be added later. He'd already photographed three
or four of the dumber ones in various positions when someone hacked into
his computer and discovered they were just about to go world-wide on the
net. It wasn't so much the photographs as the fact he'd got those for
free, but you had to pay to go on his site! I think Adam and Ivo were
pissed off because he hadn't got round to them yet!"
I looked at Tris. A nice story to tease the Thugs with. "Can we use
that one on the Thugs?" I asked. Oliver laughed and agreed and then I had
to explain about the nickname.
After finishing off all the bacon that was left, plus the bread, we
had to get ready for another round of jollity. Oliver went off in just his
shorts - I noted he arranged his cock so it didn't flop down his leg but
was anchored by the waistband. "Should be OK to go up one flight of
stairs," he said when he saw me eyeing his manoeuvre. A bit later I was
dragged off to the sports shop where Tris supervised the buying of three
pairs of running shorts, two lots of St Mark's sweats, two jockstraps and
two pairs of best trainers. We also visited Sainsbury's and joined the
queues of students stocking up with much-needed extra foodstuffs. We kept
clear of the hucksters still importuning reluctant students to join clubs
or societies and the stoical purveyors of The Big Issue. And then I had my
first real face-to- face experience of Drew.
He was already in full flow, haranguing passers-by on the corner by
the Round Church. He recognised Tris and gave him a baleful scowl. Tris
was all sweetness and light, and enjoying it.
"Hello, Drew, you are up early this morning doing your good works."
He peered down at the handful of leaflets. "Anything new?" Drew ignored
that and stared at me. Was I a possible convert to be rescued from the sin
of self-abuse? "You haven't met yet," continued Tris unabashed by the
unaccustomed silence, "But this is Mark Foster the new Pennefather Scholar.
We're old friends!" The bastard gave Drew the most outrageous wink. My
ships were sunk. I knew Drew was now an implacable enemy.
He almost snarled. "You're playing on Sunday, I see."
That was that. He turned on his heel and started to bawl out
disjointed phrases like 'Repent, your sins!" and "Love the Lord" while
thrusting his leaflets at all and sundry.
As we walked off I swung the bag of sports goods at Tris's leg. He
jumped smartly away and was smirking as we passed Moss Bros where he
pointed at the kilted dummy. "Don't try to distract me!" I said, " That
bastard has all the ammunition now to make it hot for me!"
He turned and looked at me a grin on his face. "That little fucker
has something to think about now when he isn't flogging his dolly. You can
bet your life he does that whatever his leaflets say. Anyway, you won't
have him knocking on your door now wanting to count the come stains on your
sheets..."
This time the bag did connect. "Tristan Price-Williams," I said
quietly but firmly, "Sometimes you are too crude to be believed. Anyway,
how would he distinguish between yours and mine?"
Pedestrians must have wondered about the two laughing idiots who
bumped and collided with other until we quietened down about at Green
Street and then walked sedately until we reached the passage but were still
chuckling as we went into the Porter's Lodge to see if there was any post.
More envelopes and lists plus a card from the Toad bearing a picture
of the Houses of Parliament and the inscription on the back in a very neat,
schoolboyish hand, 'Remember, Remember, the Fifth of November'. A reminder
of his impending visit! I showed it to Tris.
"It's a wonder it hasn't got you arrested for possible terrorism!" he
said, "I suppose we'd better plan a week of unremitting activity to tire
him out. All day Tuesday on the river with the boaties, Wednesday in the
scrum for three games of rugger, Thursday on the river again and Friday he
can run to Grantchester and back with the cross-country team four times.
Saturday we'll auction him on the market to the lowest bidder! Sorted!!"
If only!
Tris had definite plans for the rest of the day. I was told to go and
practise for the Sunday service. He was playing in Adam's team against
Ivo's mob, as he called them, then at six he would treat me and Oliver, if
he wished, to a good meal to line our stomachs ready for the pub-crawl.
"I made the mistake last year of not eating much beforehand. And
you're being rationed as far as drink's concerned. Three lagers and that's
your lot! You can be potboy and don't spill any of the boaties' pints or
they might get a mite rorty!"
OK, OK. All settled. In fact, Oliver came to the Chapel with me and
brought his oboe. I played the two pieces for the service and set the
pistons and left a note for Matt saying what I'd done, then we spent a very
nice hour with me on the piano accompanying a couple of oboe sonatas he was
learning ready for his LRAM. Matt came in just after four and sat and
listened and said he liked what he heard. We left as he went up to go
through the hymns. Outside we bumped into Drew who was lurking almost
furtively. Here goes, I thought.
"Sorry we didn't have time to talk this morning," I said as pleasantly
as I could, "I've just been playing over the pieces for tomorrow. By the
way, let me introduce Oliver Jensen. He's reading Music and he's in the
choir. We've just been practising a couple of pieces he's learning."
Oliver didn't know yet about Drew and his proselytising and flashed
him his trademark smile and thrust out a hand. Drew almost reluctantly
took it and shook hands. "I'm Drew Penry-Jones one of the other Organ
Scholars," he said, "I tend to favour more modern forms of worship. I'll
talk to you about it sometime." He turned to me. "I'll be there tomorrow.
I heard you play just now." He nodded. "You're good."
Praise indeed.
On the way to our stair I filled Oliver in on Drew and his
idiosyncrasies. He agreed he sounded odd and wondered what had set off the
righteous pattern.
"Sounds more Welsh Chapel than Anglican," he said, "But he's sounds
even more Hellfire and Damnation than even that."
Perhaps I'd better warn him of his rants and tell him of the
happenings last year. But, Tris knew more than I did and I would consult
him first.
The three of us found a very nice Greek restaurant in School House
Lane and had a substantial meal and a large glass of wine, before joining
up just before eight o'clock with Adam, Ivo, their pals and a host of
Freshers who all looked a bit pink after the over- indulgence of the past
two days. We three felt very virtuous. Anyway it was a real hoot as we
wended our way dividing up, gathering more, and losing a few by the
wayside, literally in the case of two poor souls, one male and one female,
who were last seen hunched over the same roadside drain emptying stomachs
over-filled with alcoholic beverages. A solicitous Adam did arrange one of
his mob to see they came to no real harm.
I and Oliver were kept on short leashes by an ever attentive Tris.
Oliver and I dutifully queued and remembered exactly who had ordered what.
I noted Fiona and Dina had latched onto two rather good-looking
rugger-types and both were downing strangely coloured concoctions and were
giggling together over something. Watch it girls, I thought, alcohol and
virginity don't go together - something I had read in a newspaper I'd seen
prominently displayed in Sammy Patel's father's shop. As the two lads were
downing pints in tandem I guessed their ability to rise to the occasion
might be impaired so the girls would probably be safe. On the other hand,
perhaps the girls wanted?....
"Your turn to get the next lot," said Ivo, nudging me and interfering
with my reverie. "God! I'm going to have a head in the morning. I'll
leave the door on the latch and you'd better come and see we're OK first
thing in the morning." He laughed. "Definitely not going to score
tonight!"
Tris had a great smile on his face as at around half-pas ten the
ragged remnants of the evening were herded past a couple of stern-faced
gentlemen on the door and we reached our final destination. Like Tris last
year - MY FIRST GAY BAR!! It was heaving. Acres of young and not so young
bare flesh - that is, torsos - gyrating to a very hypnotic beat. Tris led
the way through the throng and there was my first sighting of his friends.
Over the reduced din in the corner where they were sitting, saving seats
for us, we were introduced to Whippet, Carl and Dave. No Brad, he was busy
Whippet explained. "Left this, though." He waved two twenty pound notes
and a round of scotches appeared borne by a young lad with the tightest
jeans on I'd ever seen. And, if what bulged the front was real, Tris,
Oliver, Adam, Ivo and I would all be relegated to the third team! "Eyes
down, don't stare!" said Carl in my ear, "All padding. More like Tris's
little finger. Seen it, up and down, true!"
So the evening started, at least it did for me and I think Oliver.
Dave insisted they danced and Oliver's top and shirt came off and to
whistles of approval he and Dave were in a clinch straight off. I took the
initiative next and my dark Italian tan was shown off against Tris's golden
hue and we held each other close as we writhed to the rhythm. Writhe was
the only word to describe it. We couldn't part easily as we both had
hard-ons up to our eyebrows. "If this goes on much longer," I managed to
decipher what he said, "I'm going to come in my undies!" As we were both
wearing pairs of Uncle Francesco's trousers for the trendy and both were
encased in the minutest of thongs to prevent unsightly seams showing across
our butts we were grateful when the music soon stopped and we were able to
sit down without being embarrassed by unsightly wet patches on our fronts.
"Hell's bells!" said Whippet as we sunk gratefully, and no doubt
gracefully, into our seats. "I think half the bastards in here shot their
loads watching you two and the other half with them." He pointed at Dave
and Oliver still moving as one to the new beat which had started up.
"So was it us or them for you?" I asked.
He laughed. "Shan't tell, but you'll get all the monsters crowding in
a moment. I'll shoo them off if they get too close. They're harmless,
just annoying."
Two middle-aged fellows pushed their way up to the table. "Duckies,
you're fabulous!" one of them gushed. "Where do they find all these pretty
young things?" he asked his companion who smirked and eyed Tris up and down
speculatively.
"Too late, Desmond," said Whippet, flicking the leather straps of the
complicated chest harness he was wearing. "They're all spoken for. You'd
better go and see how the girls are getting on in the back room. May need
your assistance. We'll be around if there's trouble, you know."
Whippet explained that 'the girls' were two young lads who the pair
employed in their shop and were probably servicing a customer or two. "But
you're Police?" I said.
"Nothing too illegal. Private premises. We keep the place clean. No
drugs here at all," he smiled, "Not that you'd want any. My advice is keep
well clear of any of that and if you want help just contact us. In fact,
I've just seen someone I need to have a word with. Excuse me for a
moment."
For someone, at least six foot two and built with it, he moved fast
and was soon talking to a lad in his twenties with a very pock-marked face.
The pair came back.
"This is Rodney," he said, "Friend of a friend. You sit and Carl will
get you a drink and then home to bed or Uncle Brad might be knocking on
your door in the morning."
Rodney had rather a furtive air and a distinct twitch of the side of
his upper lip. "Ta," he said as Carl appeared with a bottle of lager. He
went and sat with him.
The beat of the music was getting to me. "Do you want to try a
waltz," I said to Whippet with a grin, nudging Tris who was watching Oliver
and Dave doing a rather erotic pas de deux.
"Can't dance," he said.
"Nor can I, but we can try," I said, "Come, or can you after such a
short interval?" I surprised myself at my forwardness.
"Cheeky monkey!" he said and got to his feet.
Neither of us had any idea of how to dance but we managed. He was a
couple of inches taller than me and I noticed we were the tallest on the
floor. Wow, he certainly didn't have any padding as I felt a veritable
python uncoil as we held each other tight. The smart blue shirt he was
wearing under his harness got decidedly damp as we circled the floor as
other dancers made way for us. Our initial rather clumsy movements
improved as we swayed and moved in perfect time with the beat. As the
music hotted up we were away and finished in a most satisfying clinch. I'd
never danced with a policeman before. In fact, I hadn't danced before.
"Fuck me!" he said as we sat down again with Tris giving us a clap of
well-earned applause, "Got to wriggle to adjust myself." He leaned across
me and whispered to Tris. "If he does to you in bed what he did to me on
the floor I envy you! I see why you turned young Batman down!"
We all laughed and Tris said he'd show him next week how it should be
done.
We chatted on still with Oliver and Dave entwined to a slow beat now.
The twitchy lad got up and left and Carl came over and sat talking with
Tris. They got up and were soon giving their all to the music on the dance
floor. I plucked up a bit of courage and asked Whippet if he had a
boyfriend. He screwed the side of his face up.
"I did. That's why I left the Army and joined the Police. I started
off in the Met but he went off because he couldn't stand the hours I was
working and I transferred here and there's been no one for the last couple
of years. I'm fond of Carl, but he's seven years younger than me and we
don't really want to mix pleasure with work. Best to keep them separate
and it really is better that way. I don't really look but things crop up.
I'm content, but...."
At that moment there was a stir as two young ladies came round the
corner. They were Fiona and Dina. Fiona waved and I beckoned them over.
"Thought you wouldn't have stayed here," I said.
She laughed. "There's a ladies' section as well but we were told
you'd be round here. And you should see some of the big lads, they're
delirious! Bet they've never seen girls who could match them for pints."
Was she or wasn't she? Didn't dare ask. Anyway, the lumpy-humpy lad
came and drinks were ordered while I found a couple of spare chairs and
went to introduce them. I didn't need to. She took one look at Whippet.
"Dad said I'd probably find you here, Dude. Said he sends his love
and Mum does, too. Zack's always asking about you, -" She looked at me. "-
that's my seventeen-year-old brother, all spots and monosyllables except
where girls, the Police and Dude are concerned."
"Tell your Mum and Dad I'm OK and tell Zack I've got some old badges
for him. And what about Brandon?"
"Never can tell. Computer mad like them all at his age. Hardly ever
see him except when there's food on the table."
Two more figures appeared. Ivo and Adam. Surprisingly undrunk! Not
quite sober but...
"Come to collect the infants," said Adam. "Hi Sarge, how's it
hanging?
Where's Carlo the Cute?" He waved and Carl gave him the thumb's up while
still holding on to Tris. "What's happened to Oliver?"
We all nodded towards the still rather crowded dance-floor. Two
glistening figures were now tangoing or whatever. Bloody hell! Near
enough two hours and they were still dancing. The record ended and the DJ
was announcing something as they came over, sweaty but thoroughly enjoying
each others company. But, I though Carl and Dave?.... Tris and Carl came
over, too.
"Carl, don't just stand there. Just because Barney isn't here
tonight.
Come on, last dance with me." Dave held out a hand and Carl joined him
but gave Tris a sweet smile.
The music started up. It was slow and we were mesmerised as the pair
held each other and produced such languorous sensual movements. I could
feel the sap rising. God! I thought, if Barney could get Carl away from
Dave he must have something. Oliver and Dave had looked superb and Tris
and Carl had been good, but Dave and Carl now looked matchless in their
absolute togetherness.
Fiona and Dina were whispering together as they watched and Whippet
leaned over to me and murmured in my ear. "Fucking Hell, what Carl sees in
that wanker Barney I do not know. It nearly broke Dave's heart. He
thought they had a real thing going. Brad says let them alone they'll sort
it out...." He nudged me. "....I think your lad there has shown Batman
what he's missing, too. Let's see if they go off together. If they do
it's good riddance to Barney Mayhew! Big cock, bollocks and all!"
At just on one we decided to call it a day. I rescued my shirt and
top and told a couple of the youngsters as we went out, who asked me where
we got the stuff, that it was Matteoli gear - all the young Italians were
wearing it, just ask and get an order in. Carl and Dave went off together
and we said goodnight to Whippet who had a motorbike which Ivo and Adam
quizzed him about. We five walked the two girls back to the College Hall
of Residence for Ladies' - the 'Bitch Niche' as Fiona called it - and
Oliver and the twins joined Tris and me in my set for a goodnight brandy.
We said little just sipped and savoured the delights of the all-revealing
evening. Tris slept with me that night in the four-poster. We were too
relaxed now to do anything but help each other to a wonderful close to a
perfect day. I whispered to Tris, as his boycream joined mine all over my
stomach and chest, that Whippet had us appraised and approved. We held
each other and slept.
To be Continued: