Date: Fri, 19 Jan 2007 22:11:01 +0000
From: Jo Vincent <joad130@hotmail.com>
Subject: Mystery and Mayhem at St Mark's:   24

		      Mystery and Mayhem At St Mark's

				    by

				   Joel

             Some of the Characters Appearing or Mentioned:
Mark Henry Foster  The story-teller:  Pennefather Organ Scholar
Tristan (Tris) Price-Williams  His well-proportioned boyfriend
Professor James Tanner  Mark's Maths tutor
Paul Phillips  A friendly solicitor, companion of Professor Tanner
Jacob Van Zyl   Aother friendly solicitor but badly crippled
Paulus Andriessen  Jacob's companion
Charles Fane-Stuart  Research Student and Assistant to the Bursar
Brigadier Robert Taylor  The Bursar
Mrs Wendy Chalfont-Meade  The Bursar's Secretary
Drew Penry-Jones  Senior Organ Student
Boswell Johnson  BA(Cranwell)  The new Servant of the Chapel
Benjamin Mostyn  Organ Scholar [2002]
Jason Knott   A newly minted Porter
Liam Moore  A Lodge Boy
Sean O'Malley   Servery lad and Lodge Boy

          24.       Christmas Term Begins         2002


It was nice having a few days getting ready for the term without the rush
of lectures, tutorials and so on.  We were up the next morning early as
usual, even though our love-making had continued until both had been
satisfied and replete with those feelings that had become so much a part of
our relationship.  Our run was shorter.  Although we had both swum and
walked on holiday we were not at that peak of condition we felt we were at
before embarking on our summer jaunt.  We knew that Oliver would join us,
and perhaps the Aussies, when term began, so we resolved to make it a
permanent fixture in our day again.

     Tris went off to Jacob's office to be there by nine when it opened as
he said there was a stack of documents to be dealt with.  Some to be taken
to the Italian Fellow in one of the other colleges to get the legal and
other documents translated, others to prepare for prospective franchisees.
I knew he was overjoyed at getting this firsthand knowledge of how a busy
solicitor's office worked.  I spent the morning in Cambridge shopping and
browsing.  There was music to choose, there was new crockery and some more
elegant wineglasses to purchase, and there was food to buy to stock the
fridge and small freezer.  As I came out of Green Street opposite Sidney
Sussex College I was surprised to spot Drew in earnest conversation with a
bespectacled young man who looked the usual type of God Squad material.
Funny, I hadn't seen any sign of Drew yesterday and his pigeon-hole had
been full of letters and notices just as mine had been.  I dived into
Sainsbury's and contemplated the range of Italian foods and decided we
would have Indian that evening.

     As soon as I got back through the College gateway I found Charles with
young Liam, complete with clipboards.  Liam went off towards one of the
other staircases while Charles hailed me and walked with me towards ours.

     "Mark, dearest, I hope you aren't suffering from the lack of sun here,
your tan really sets off your features."  He laughed.  "Perhaps we could
plan a modest divertissement before it fades, say of the Dear Old Queen and
a dusky Eastern retainer."  The clipboard was waved.  "But no, I feel I
could not age enough for that just yet." Charles was in a very happy mood.
The clipboard was waved again.  "Have you a moment?"  I nodded.  Charles
lowered his voice and became almost confidential.  "Allow me to vouchsafe
you a peek at my old abode now ready for my successor."  We walked to the
front door and stood by the entrance to his 'old abode'.  He opened both
doors and I was ushered in, not expecting what I then saw.  The whole place
was transformed.  It was no longer garish, over-dressed with fabric and
smelling 'like a Turkish brothel', as Adam had snidely whispered to me one
day.  All the pictures of Charles in his various manifestations were gone,
including the stunning one of him as a platinum blonde beauty.  Now, the
dark wood panelling was gleaming, the old carpet on the floor had been
replaced, and the windows were hung with brightly coloured plainer fabrics
which complimented the rest of the subdued, very expensive-looking, decor.
Rather expensive-looking paintings were hung around.  What a change!

     He bowed.  "Mother's gift to the College," he said.  "Mother does have
good taste when she is allowed."

     I said it was a wonderful transformation.  He laughed and said all the
old tat had been gratefully received by the wardrobe department of the
local theatre and he was looking forward to seeing a production there using
his old curtains.

     I asked him about his own vacation and suggested he told me about it
over coffee.  As I laid the tray, displaying some of my morning's purchases
before him, I asked, "But, your hair?"

     He put a hand up and ran two fingers through the wave above his left
ear.  "Mother insisted I had it shorn before embarking on the voyage across
the great divide.  Her next client, after the Scottish baronial mansion
owner, and the one I was to meet first, was a clean-living Baptist from a
good and honest working background who prayed to the Good Lord each morning
in thanks for the abundance He had bestowed upon him, as he told me in
fog-horn tones at that initial meeting.  Mother had thought on a previous
meeting with him he might not take kindly to my preferred appearance."

     He was off.  He was a superb actor.  Every character in his tale was
vividly portrayed, even to the accents.  I felt quite privileged as I was
the only audience.

     He dropped his voice and leaned forward.  "I need not have worried.
Both he and his unmarried son made advances to me before the week was out.
Advances, I might add which were strongly repelled."  He sat back and
smiled, a satisfied smile.  "I took a leaf out of dear Alexandra's book and
the younger Mr Crannock did not appear for dinner that evening and was last
seen driving his Hummer at breakneck speed away from the premises."

     I wasn't sure if this wasn't a rehearsal for a reincarnated, new model
Charles, from the ashes of Clarissa, but I persisted.

     "And Mr Crannock Senior?"

     He raised his left hand.  "Very simple.  After he had described in
graphic terms what terrors might befall me in the privacy of his library, I
merely asked if the scenario was of such a Biblical nature as those I was
to discuss with the Reverend JoeBob Buttle that afternoon as possible
depictions on his entrance hall walls and would ask his advice.  He did go
rather red and had to loosen his collar and I left to consult with the good
Reverend with the promise of a substantial reward for my forbearance of
thoughts which only the Evil One could have planted."  He shook his head.
"I then endured two hours of Apocalyptic ravings of a very vivid nature
from a sweet-faced, white-haired, eighty-year-old, whose Biblical knowledge
seemed to be confined to the more graphic portions of the book of
Revelations."  He sighed.  "I was not unhappy to leave that demented
household.  Poor Mrs Crannock wrung her hands at my departure as I found
her the only sane person as the retainers, all elderly, seemed bowed with
care and troubles of their own, and she, poor soul, only wanted news of the
two shows I had seen on Broadway and the joys of London."

     "Charles...," I said, hardly believing a word, but staring at the very
expensive looking wristwatch he was wearing.  Was that bought with the
reward for forbearance?
  "...And after that?"

     "Mother polished off that one in no time at all.  The Reverend JoeBob
had three granddaughters who were competent draughtswomen and they were
left in charge.  At least they were not imbued with the Hellfire and
Damnation as they had spent time in more civilised climes and one told me,
when in a confidential mood, that she would see that the murals contained
hidden references to more earthly delights."

     He laughed.  "But I continue.  The major assignment after that was
another huge house to be decorated in 'the Italian style', statuary, urns,
handmade furniture, Pompeiish wall paintings and mosaic flooring, all in
abundance."  His arms flayed the air and I had fears of volcanic
destruction of my expensive new porcelain.  "My dear, the owners had so
much money it was unbelievable!  He was big in diggers.  Huge monsters
tearing up the landscape in State after State.  They were sweeties though.
He was positively cuboid and she was blonde, facially reconstructed, but
well-read."  He snickered.  "He was insistent that the male statues were
complete and had ticked off a long list from the Vatican Museum and was
incensed he could not buy the originals even though mutilated.  She, dear
thing, had volumes of Herculaneum and Pompeii and a hoard of painters
copying exquisite depictions of peacocks, flowers, all sorts of animals and
views on the vast walls of the mansion.  Mother had to work round all this
and I was dispatched to, of all places, a film studio where the main bodies
of the statues were to be constructed.  It was most embarrassing.  I have
to tell you the innuendos were too gross even for dear Clarissa to
contemplate."

     My turn to laugh.  "And who modelled for the extras?"  Surely not
Charles himself.

     "Mark," he said severely, "If I tell you this, you promise not to
impart the knowledge to third-parties."

     I held up both hands and showed him my fingers crossed.  "Of course
not!"

     "Dear Tristan at least I allow," he said, taking a delicate sip from
the porcelain cup I had earlier feared for.  "But, I was given an address
of another studio.  I did not realise the nature of the films produced
there."  His voice took on a tinge of horror.  "I had to inspect a whole
row of young men who might be chosen to provide the replicas and they
wanted to know what a Limey was doing peering at their possessions.  Not
said in such refined terms I can assure you.  I found their animosity was
due mainly to their fears of not being in the selected group."  A hand was
raised.  "Poor dears, so anxious, but all were most apologetic and very
friendly after I pointed at each in turn and said they would all be
immortalised in stone rather than in the ephemerality of film.  I did not
point out the statues were to be cleverly made from plaster and their
contributions were of like kind.  That said, Mr Tommasini was so pleased
with the results I was awarded a substantial personal bonus."

     I didn't enquire what he may have spent that on.  "And you're back
here in dull old Cambridge?"

     He laughed.  "I hear your holiday was of a restful nature on the
whole.
  The lovely Oliver sent me several cards with closely written descriptions
of the joys of the Villa and its inhabitants and tells me he has formed a
relationship with a delightful boy.
  I understand he is that inestimable Fiona's younger brother."

     I said we all approved and Zack was also an inestimable character and
there was an even younger brother whose character was of the highest
quality, too.

     He smiled.  "I am so pleased for Oliver, he did seem rather lost for a
time."  He contemplated the plate of biscuits and then reached out and took
one.  "Of course, dear Father has been most attentive, too, in his own
sweet way.  I am loath to intrude on his generous nature at the Villa but
he has arranged for Mother and I to spend Christmas and the New Year in
Venice.  I do not think Mother has the inclination to settle down yet, she
is too set in her career and I feel I must support her in her endeavours
however wearing on my sensibilities."

     I thought, old fraud, I can see you've enjoyed every minute of it!

     He indicated the clipboard which he had beside him on the sofa.  "But
then, I may have found my avocation.  There is much news of a happier sort
here.  The Master has been informed that...." He paused.  I knew he was
having some sort of difficulty.
  I nodded in support as he looked straight across at me.  "...Mr
Finch-Hampton has willed his house and all his possessions to the College."
He breathed in deeply.  "There, I've said it.  It was a quite unexpected
gift, but there would seem to have been some falling-out in the past
between various members of the family when he inherited the house in the
first place.  The Master has asked me to supervise the refurbishment in due
course so that it can become a valued adjunct to the College as further
student accommodation.  The Bursar is most happy this task has been removed
from his shoulders and has indicated a permanent position might be mine in
view of my organisational abilities."  He smiled.  "I think I have found my
future place in College."

     "That's marvellous," I said.  "But what about your research?"

     The hands were raised again.  "My dear, that goes on apace.  I have
been helped most generously by the University Library who have taken on the
task of photo-copying and transferring to disk all the readable, and even
unreadable, manuscripts of successive Servants of the Chapel.  I am
concentrating on the 1500's as this was a time of turmoil and trouble as
you well know.  There are mysteries there, too, and I must take advice
where I can.  It is a task of transcribing at the moment and the Master and
Dr Henson are content to give me board and lodging in recompense for the
other duties as well.  I am very happy and I have been helped greatly by
dear Professor Jensen when he was here last week."

     "But the limousine....?"

     His hands performed their usual ballet.  "I have been camping out
aloft.  A meagre blanket or two have sufficed, but the rooms have been
prepared ready for me.
  Mother hired the car as usual to bring my possessions from the flat in
town.  The boys have taken them up and I must unpack them later."

     We finished the coffee and he said he would have to go as he had
things to report to the Bursar before he could attend to his own
necessities.  I also noted I hadn't been invited to peek at his new abode,
Tris's old room.  I wondered if a couple of statues with pendant un-
Cellini proportioned willies were guarding the door, and the walls adorned
with murals of the racier sort from Pompeii.  Definitely not the Four
Horsemen of the Apocalypse that would be for sure!

     I spent the afternoon in the Chapel playing.  Again, I had missed that
wonderful feeling of discipline and release at the same time over the past
three months.  That relation between keyboards and the sound produced was
akin to being with my Tris and I played through the Cesar Franck Cantabile
with him fixed in my mind.  That solo in the tenor register soared out and
I made every note a personal message of my love and devotion.

     After about two hours I felt I was getting back to a semblance of my
previous standard.  When I came down from the loft I found Jason and young
Liam busily polishing the brass of the lamps on the choir stalls and the
big brass candlesticks from beside the altar.

     "Thank you, Mr Foster," Jason said, "We saw you come in and took the
opportunity of preparing the Chapel for the new Servant.  I said to Liam I
particularly liked the Herbert Howells but he preferred the more robust
Choral Song."

     "The Wesley?"

     "Yes, sir," he said, surveying a shining, thickly decorated stem of
the candlestick.

     I was rather flabbergasted.  Here was Jason displaying another
unsuspected talent.  "Do you play?" I asked.

     "Yes," he said, eyeing up the second immense candlestick, "I help out
my great-Aunt Mildred at the Methodist Chapel when I can."

     "Leave that," I said, "I want to hear."

     He seemed hesitant.  Liam nudged him and whispered "Go on, Jase".

     I led the way up to the loft and switched on.  "Music," I said,
indicating the orderly rack of volumes.  He didn't answer and took nothing,
but selected my favourite Flutes, 8ft and 4ft on the Choir and the same on
the Swell and a single 8ft on the Great.

     "Sorry, sir," he said pressing his fingers together, "Wrong shoes, so
it will have to be manuals only."

     He launched into a Gavotte by Camidge I had often played.  He changed
manuals with aplomb and pointed up the numerous changes in the cheerful
tune as it rippled along.  Liam was smiling and nodding his head.  Oh,
Jason, you do amaze me!

     He turned and also smiled as he finished.  "First time here, thank
you."

     I just said "Thank you," back.  Then I found he'd taken Grade Eight
and I said he really should go further.  I heard then, as well as his
promotion, the Chaplain had persuaded the Bursar to let him have a day off
a week to attend the local Sixth Form College with a view to A Levels.  "Mr
Adam said he'd help with the History when he comes back."  I didn't know
that.  My kind-hearted cousin had not mentioned it, but Jason said it was
all arranged last term.  History, Geography and Economics were his chosen
subjects, and two others had been lined up to help him, too.  I said if he
promised to work I would hear him play on Thursday mornings after early
Chapel and try to give him advice for a diploma.

     Liam was nudging him again.  "You go for it, Jase!"

     "And what about you, Liam?" I asked.  He grinned.

     "Five nights a week at the gym," said Jason, "Budding little
welter-weight he'll be, eh, Liam?"

     Gosh, yes, I could see the sturdiness of his frame.

     "My brother's in the Army, he's a PTI," said Liam, really the first
time I'd heard him say more than a 'Yes' or 'No'.  "I might join up when
I'm eighteen but Mr Tomkins says I'll be better off here.  Connor's worried
about Iraq and says it's better to be kicked around by Jase here than be
blown up there."

     Jason slapped him on the back.  "And if we don't get down there and
finish the polishing Mr Fane-Stuart will give you one with his clipboard
again."  He turned to me.  "Liam's taking over some of my duties helping
the Servant of the Chapel and Mr Charles has been instructing him.  Liam'll
help me with the Pennefather set as well.  Mr Charles says it's a double
now.  I can assure you Liam is one for neatness and tidiness."  And one to
hold his tongue I hoped.

     "Have you seen the request for a desk?"  I asked as we went down the
stairs into the Chapel.  Tris was going to leave one at the Porter's Lodge
as he went past this morning.

     "Yes," said Jason, "Mr Fane-Stuart says there is a very nice one
surplus to requirements in Mr Finch-Hampton's old set."  He nudged Liam
this time.  "Young Liam will be exercising his muscles helping Mr Marlowe
dismantle it and reassemble it tomorrow afternoon, if that is convenient.
If we come with you now you can show us where you would like it."  Mr
Marlowe was the main-tain-ance man, who in overalls and belt holding tools
of every description, kept most of the College in working order, and had
said my set was not damaged by the leak from above.

     But there were other things.  I wondered if Liam exercised one
particular muscle, his tongue.  This might upset certain arrangements if he
did so.  Arrangements which were so obvious as I led the pair into our
bedroom.  I hadn't tidied up.  Cast-off running gear for two was on the
bed.  The Manchester United duvet was folded half back where we had slid
out of the bed to get ready for our run.  Yesterday's socks and pants were
either side of the bed.  No sign of nightwear though.  Two unopened
suitcases were on the other, unmade, single bed.

     It didn't take much to realise that two rather large lads had shared
the four-poster the night before.  Perhaps just to keep each other company?
Perhaps to keep each other warm against the coming rigours of a Cambridge
winter?  Perhaps to fuck like two happy bunnies?  Take your pick, Liam, I
thought.  I think Liam realised the full import of the situation and, while
Jason measured widths and depths like a modern-day Figaro, he busied
himself folding running shorts, jockstraps, and tops and putting those and
the trainers on the shelves by the wardrobe.  He folded back the duvet
after shaking it gently to make certain the filling was even and put socks
and underpants in a pile in the wicker basket we kept for things waiting to
be laundered.

     He turned and smiled.  "I can be available each morning, Mr Foster,"
he said, "If it is not convenient some signal, perhaps.  Mr Leadbetter puts
a red elastic band on his door handle but he has a double with Mr Farson
this year."

     Leadbetter?  Farson? Yes, the chunky lad who played in Ivo's team last
year was Leadbetter if I remembered rightly.  Farson?  I thought hard.
Yes, he was a rather foppish young man who was one of the drinking and
eating club band.  A liaison, as Charles had said about the new doubles?

     "No need," I said, "We've resolved to go running every day unless the
weather's too bad.  Just clatter about if we're still comatose, but with
all we're involved in I think early mornings will be general.  It's just
the dirty laundry I worry about.  Why not come in after nine if Jason can
spare you."

     "The bed will be changed once a week, and I will see all is ready for
washing on Friday mornings," Liam said, with no emphasis on the singular
'bed'.  "If I'm not available my step-brother will attend to you and could
do the washing."

     "Sean?"

     "Yes," said Jason, putting a protective arm round Liam, "Liam's Mum
died three years ago and Sean's Dad went off so after the divorce there was
a wedding last year.  Liam's lived next door to us since he was born.
Known him since he was in nappies, eh?"

     I laughed.  "You couldn't have been out of them long then."

     They both laughed and I knew that tight lips were the order of the
day.

     Tris was full of news when he arrived back at College just after half
past five.  I was in my study looking over another sheaf of notes I'd found
stuffed in my pigeon-hole after the lads had left.  Professor Tanner was a
stickler for work and the Second Year stuff I could see followed on well
from what I'd done before.  But there was lots of it.  Confidence was
needed, though.

     "Hi, precious one," he said as he flung his arms round me, it was
obvious who he'd just bumped into.  "Just seen Charles and the news is
out."

     "Pinch-Bum's Will?"

     "Yeah!  You heard?"  I nodded as he stroked the top of my head.
"Bugger was loaded! Best news is that the executors' got in touch with
Jacob and if he doesn't sue the estate they'll pay for anymore
reconstructive surgery and convalescence.  Pauli says that's best for all
so Jacob's arranging to have the next lot done in a couple of weeks, then
there'll be a major do once that's healed and all should be over.  He'll be
walking again."  He laughed.  "Pauli says he'll enter him for the Marathon
then!"  He bent and kissed my ear.  "They're so nice.  It's wonderful.
Your James and Paul have been together since they were at school and Jacob
and his Pauli are the same.  I had lunch with Jacob today and he told me a
bit about what happened when he was at school in South Africa and how he
was chucked out and came here when his cousin ratted on him.  He said he
was apart from Pauli for nearly four years and it nearly broke his heart.
He said that James and Paul had been such good friends to him and James
thinks you're good, too.  I said I wouldn't tell you that, but he said
there shouldn't be secrets, so you know now, bighead!"

     "James said that about us being friends?" I asked, turning on my chair
and making him sit on my lap.

     "No, you dumbcluck, he thinks you might have a little brain somewhere
else than in the tip of your dick.  Oooh!"  He laughed.  "You're probably
like those dinosaurs who had two brains, one in their head and the other up
their arse, yours has just shifted a bit."

     He wriggled his arse against my immediate erection.  I'll make him go
Ooooh!  Properly!!

     "If you keep doing that you'll be having a late supper."

     He got up, put his arms round me and kissed me deeply.  "That'll keep
you nicely ready for later," he said, "Now, you tell me about your day and
I'll tell you more about mine."

     We had an early supper and chatted all through it.  I heard more about
Jacob and his background, I filled him in on Charles's saga.  He was
starving and the kitchen was filled with the rich aroma of a variety of
Indian dishes.  I'd added a platter of cut banana and tomatoes to the
array, with two jars of special chutney.  Tris had a very satisfied look as
he mopped the last remnants with the remains of piece of naan bread.

     "I must say that a hint of spices and ginger does a power of good to
the loins.  No wonder India's overcrowded," he said with the usual
lascivious look in his eye.  "Here, let's leave this and go and sit.  I'll
take the Heineken in, just stick the plates in the sink."

     Good.  I also favoured the possible effects of the spicy food and was
just contemplating what it might result in a bit later after finishing the
cold beer, when there was a discreet knock on our outer door.

     "I'll go," said Tris, "Can't think who it can be."

     I had just come back in from the kitchen as he ushered in the
bespectacled young man I'd seen in conversation with Drew.  Oh, bloody
hell, I thought, another one after our souls and why had Tris succumbed to
his entreaties to be saved?

     He saw me and smiled an apologetic smile.  "Sorry to intrude, but I'm
Boswell Johnson and I'm supposed to meet Charles Fane-Stuart and he's not
around.  I'm the new Servant of the Chapel."

     Tris laughed.  "Charles will be around somewhere.  Have you met him
before?"

     Boswell's eyes twinkled as his face broke into a grin.  "Have I?
Bowled over is not the word."  He looked at us.  "Which one's the
Pennefather Scholar?"  Tris pointed to me.  "Dad was about thirty or so
years ago," he said, laughing.  "Hasn't stopped talking about it yet.  He's
organist at our church."  He smiled most engagingly.  "Congrats.
  I'm not musical at all, just about keep my end up amongst the basses."

     I was immediately taken with Boswell.  What did we know about him?
Graduate of elsewhere.  High Anglican.  That was all.

     We were interrupted in this by a brisk knock.  I went this time.  It
was Charles in a real tizz.  "Darling Mark, I am so late!  You have Boswell
here?"  I nodded as he rushed past me.  "The Brigadier insisted I join him
in another port after dinner.  Poor Mrs Taylor realised I had another
engagement but he was so resolute I could not refuse.  I think he is kept
on a short leash while at home where drink is concerned."  He had spied
Boswell who was standing more or less hidden by Tris.  "Boswell, my dear, I
apologise abjectly.  You have introduced yourselves?"

     "Glass of beer?" asked Tris, knowing that Charles preferred a gin and
tonic.

     Charles held up an admonitory finger.  "I have supped sufficiently but
I am sure Boswell could be accommodated while I go upstairs to fetch his
keys."  He turned and rushed out again.

     We stood and grinned at each other.  Tris held up his can.  Boswell
nodded.  Tris went out to the kitchen.  I indicated he should sit.

     "Who's the Brigadier?" he asked as he sat.

     "The Bursar," I said, "Charles is hoping to take over his job
sometime, I think.  He's a great organiser and the Bursar certainly isn't,
and that's well-known."  I knew that as I'd had occasion to see him about a
leak in the wind supply to the Great soundboard and had to stick some
adhesive tape over the hole and waited for three weeks before the organ
builders were contacted.

     Charles was back, carrying not only a most impressive bunch of keys
but also a thick notebook and the Servant's gown over his arm.

     "For you," he said, handing over the keys, "You will be formally
invested with the gown, however, on Sunday at the beginning of Matins.  I
will be there to guide you through the ceremony.  Quite touching as it
dates back to the first Statutes."  He held up the book.  "Each Servant of
the Chapel keeps a record of all happenings of interest in the Chapel and
in the College.  It is your turn to start a new journal.  Mine is now
entrusted to the safe-keeping of the Chaplain."

     "Charles is doing his BPhil on old records of the Servants," I said,
"He's found some rather interesting things so far."

     "Hush," said Charles, holding up a hand, "Do not alarm him on his
first day.  Just record what you see and hear however trivial it may seem
at the time.  Our Porters do the same and their diaries have been most
useful in retrieving lost items."

     That set him off and while the three of us supped our beer Charles
launched into one of his vast monologues with a substantial gin and tonic
to keep his throat from drying.  We felt we were really back.  They said
their goodnights about ten o'clock.  I said I would wash up in the morning
and for our second night in our bed we replayed the previous night's
scenario.

     Wednesday the Freshers started arriving in hordes.  One of the first
was the new Organ Scholar, Ben Mostyn, as his name label proclaimed.  He
seemed quiet but soon showed he had a mordant sense of humour as he
described having been entreated, after his interview with the Chaplain and
Dr Al-Hamed, by an insistent Drew that he should put away all evil thoughts
and actions as such things would affect his playing, as well as his whole
being and existence.  As he was barely seventeen at the time, he said he'd
been quite scared and almost refused the post until his father, the local
vicar, had said he was no different from any other boy.  Oh, another lad
confessing to being a wanker and on the first meeting with me.  But then he
said his girlfriend was up at Girton as well this year.  But I thought he'd
be a real asset and with Boswell could be friends.  Just had to explain the
conjugations on the staircase, as Charles called them.

     I kept somewhat out of the way just seeing four of the six new members
of the choir and chatting to Louie and Toby who were importuning anyone
over six foot six to be members of the Boat Club.  No, I think it was five
foot ten as I saw two muscular youngsters of that ilk signing up.  They'd
look good in the College leotards I thought.
  Tris worked at Jacob's in the mornings on Thursday and Friday but manned
the Basketball Club stand on both afternoons.  Wow! I just loved seeing him
in those long silky shorts waving his leaflets!  I was getting rather
lascivious and then I saw my favourite young ladies and
  that side of my temperature dropped a degree or two but I was so pleased
to see them.  They were side by side womaning - I decided to be PC - the
Music Club and Debating Club stands.  I was hugged and kissed by both, I
think raising the expectations of a number of callow eighteen- year-old
males who thought this was standard Cambridge practice and if they
joined...?

     "Hi, gorgeous," said Dina, getting in a remark first for once.
"Where's the other hunk?"  I pointed along the row.

     "She's only jealous," said Fiona, "Louie's been in Switzerland all
summer staying with his Gran so she's feeling deprived and at least Toby
took me to up to Edinburgh.  Looks good in a kilt, he does, it's those
thighs."

     "Hussy!  But I did go out and stay a fortnight and had a fab time,"
Dina said,

     Fiona laughed.  "But not so grand as my evil little brothers.  Villa
Matteoli and a real live Count!"  She poked my arm.  "And you two and the
others!  The pair have made my life hell since they've been back.  Mark
this, Tris that!  Oliver's had his work cut out keeping tabs on them and
doing their homework and snatching the phone away as they're constantly
sending Dad's phone-bills sky high.  But God bless their little souls." She
laughed.  "Zack sends his best wishes and Brandon says he's used up all
that bottle of body spray you gave him as all his pals got hold of it after
PE and the master made a very inappropriate remark about their joint
activities."  She shook her head.  "Nice to be back, though."

     I grinned.  Brandon had sprayed Pietro liberally with it on the last
day he was there and Pietro had also probably made a very inappropriate
remark which made Nesto laugh but had refused to translate but we guessed
it referred to dubious sexuality on Brandon's part.  Yes, young Brandon and
Pietro's wankathon!  I bet that wasn't mentioned at home in polite company.
Nor the remark Zack made to Oliver after his inspection of Brandon's
over-used tool, "The pair of them would have torn each other to shreds with
another night of the same!".

     "Done any work?"  I asked, hurriedly banishing my thoughts to an inner
recess of my brain, and brandished the copy of the lecture list I'd just
picked up from my pigeon-hole.  A second copy, this one marked up in red
and green pen by James Tanner.

     "Bollocks," breathed Fiona, then waved a leaflet at a rather startled
young lady.  "Sorry, it just slipped out..."  I forbore adding "...as the
bishop said to the actress."

     Dina laughed.  "What do you expect with two young brothers.  But my
brother Lucas is even worse.  He has his own private swear-box in his room
and last time I picked it up it weighed a ton and Mum says he should give
it to his favourite charity."

     "You?" I said.  She laughed and screwed up her nose.  "But work....?"
I said.  They both shook their heads.  Whereas I seemed to work all the
time they appeared so much more laid back about it, but on the surface we
were level-pegging.  But no, Dina did have some difficulties and so did
Fiona.  They made up for these by really knowing the techniques they felt
they could use.  I plodded on never satisfied until I could deal with as
much as possible.  I was always looking forward, too.  I wanted to know
where a proof or a result might lead.  I already had a notebook full of
private jottings.

     "We'll start on Monday.  Don't forget the Freshers' trek on Saturday.
We'll be there and so will you!"  They both waved goodbye and started
haranguing the throng of passers-by and I wondered how much of the freely
available fermented grape-juice of dubious quality they had already
imbibed.  Anyway, I was also clutching a polystyrene cup of the muck which
I had accepted from the Flat Earth Society or the Crochet for Cretins Club,
or whatever the stall before theirs was called, and moved on

     I felt very grand as a Second Year as I strolled around.  But then,
Tris was now a Third Year student.  I had a sudden pang.  Only one more
year and we would be parted again.  But my year would be full and so would
his.

     I was ruminating on this, having ditched the cup and its vile contents
in a convenient black sack, when I was accosted by a flustered Charles with
a grinning Liam in tow, both armed with clip-boards.

     "Oh, Mark, sweetheart!  We need assistance, a slight calamity has
occurred."  The clipboard was waved alarmingly.  "Two of the sweet young
things have had a hissy fit and will not share the set I had assigned
them..."  'Hissy fit'.  A few weeks across the Atlantic, I thought, and he
was speaking like a native.  "...How was I to know they were anathema to
each other?  The school was the same, their interests the same, even their
post-codes were the same.  I took all this as a hint of compatibility.  But
no!  Both arrive this morning and glower at each other and spit veritable
fire at poor wee Liam here who conducted them to their set.  You are the
only mediator and hope.  They are both to be in the choir, though Decani
and Cantoris I am sure.."

     "Are there two anywhere else who might share?" I said, "You could look
for friends who have separate sets.  Louie and Toby, they're great pals and
you know them well.  They've got quite poky sets on the same staircase."

     "Mark, you are an angel of loveliness and sweet reason.  The set in
question is quite ample in size."  He looked at me craftily.  "Would you be
my go-between, I would not like either dear Louis or my erstwhile Paris, my
invaluable Tobias, to think I had any plans for them other than through
sheer necessity?"

     Casting two large, built-with-it, slabs of gorgeousness, in parts
requiring the minimum of costume and the ability to link arms and high step
and attempt the splits in the can-can, together with ten others of like
magnificence, might be considered a task of some magnitude which he had
accomplished with great virtuosity, and now he was asking me just to have a
word with the pair, just in case they thought....

     "OK, OK," I said, wondering if they would laugh, bat me between them
like a pestilential fly, or fall on their knees sobbing out undying love
for each other and this was the answer to their maidenly prayers.  I
doubted very much the third and they were too amiable for the second,
so....  "I'll see what I can do.  But it'll cost you.  Tea for four in your
new abode," I said, pointing from Liam, to me, to him and waving a finger
in the general direction of Tris.  "You stay here.  Come on Liam!"

     Toby and Louie were having a slight rest from their labours of
cajoling would-be rowers and were necking down a bottle of beer each.
"Thirsty work this," said Louie, "Want one?"
     "No thanks, not at the moment," I said as Liam looked rather longingly
at the array of bottles on the stand.  "I am an emissary of goodwill and
the bearer of certain suggestions for possible deliverance from those
monkish cells you inhabit."  They started to laugh, so point one wasn't too
far off the mark.  Go for it!  My imitation of Charles' rodomontade had
been recognised. "Unfortunately, Charles in his new role of
Bursar-in-Waiting and General Cock- Up Merchant has managed to put two lads
who hate each other's guts in a joint set and to prevent any bloodshed
wonders if you would like to share?"

     Liam, still eyeing the bottles, held up his clipboard.  "It's the set
at the top of Staircase E.  Fully furnished and the Bursar is willing to
give a discount on gas used.  There's plenty of cupboard space, too, and I
reckon we might find a better fridge for the kitchen."

     They did laugh.  They did agree.  Liam had a look of triumph on his
face as both presented him with a bottle of beer and I took a bottle, too.
As we walked back to where Charles was lurking he stowed his bottles in an
inner pocket of his black coat.  "Poacher's pocket," he said.

     "You'd make a bloody good Estate Agent you little fraud," I said.
"What's this about the Bursar's discount and a fridge?"

     He snickered.  "There's a pipe some student must have put in years ago
which can bypass the meter.  I'll just give them the benefit a couple of
mornings a week..."

     "And the fridge?"

     "There's a better one in Mr Mantegnant's old kitchen.  I'll get it
cleaned up a bit and swapped over and he'll think it's brand new.  All
sorted, Mr Fane-Stuart," he concluded as we came up to a less-harassed
looking Charles.

     Even though it wasn't particularly warm he mopped his brow with a
large, crisply laundered handkerchief.  "My dears, such grateful thanks."
He looked at his watch.  Cartier I guessed.  "Four o'clock sharp.  That
gives us time to impart the good news to those two ungrateful wretches.
Come along Liam, I see one of them skulking by that hydrangea."

     I wandered over to Tris who was looking even more adorable in my eyes
and told him tea at four.  He looked slightly relieved as two young ladies
were asking him if there was a Ladies' Basketball Club although a big sign
pointed to the requisite stand.  I skirted the mob and went to the Chapel
and played for the next hour and wondered what was in store for later.

     Charles and Liam were already upstairs when Tris and I arrived.  The
door was flung open and the usual welcome was offered.  I was more
interested in the decor.
  It couldn't have been more different from his 'previous abode'.  It
matched very much the decor on the ground floor but colours were a
delightful mix of autumnal shades with hints and flashes of colour.  The
only item in the main room which was familiar was the painting of Clarissa
above the fireplace.  There were artfully placed ceramics around with two
table lamps and a very modern standard lamp.  All in all, the whole place
looked cosy and subdued and liveable in.  "Do you approve, my dears?" he
asked.  We both grinned and nodded.  No more needed to be said.  There were
no rampant statues on guard!
     "Liam and I have been discussing the placement of the new-comers.  I
think all has been very successful except for that regrettable pair."  A
hand was waved dismissively.  "But even Masters Pretty and Awful...,"
"Orford," said Liam.  The hand was dismissive again.  "...Even they,
although adjacent as at home, are not snarling and can easily avoid each
other.  They will need to be seen separately about their placement in the
choir.  Master Pretty says he's a tenor and Liam ascertained Master.."
"Orford," said Liam.  "...Can sing either alto or bass.  A curious
conjunction but possible, I am told."

     "Yes" I said, "We could use a good male alto, but where's the tea?"

     "Hush, do not be so precipitous.  The kettle in on and Liam slipped
out and found some pastries.  Not too large for us as I intend to take you
both for a meal in thanks for what dear Mark has accomplished for me."

     I snorted.  "But he hasn't done anything except incite young ladies'
passions with his golden tan and those shorts."  I pointed in the general
direction of his knees.  Tris stretched his legs.  Yes, quite sufficient to
incite me.  "I protest," I said, "I might have ended up in the Cam for
suggesting that pair live together."

     "But, sweet one, we know they have other interests and there are two
quite adequate and separate bedrooms in that set.  I had arranged for a
dividing partition to be erected rather than the flimsy curtain which
served as in your dear cousins' set."

     "How long have you been angling for the job?" forthright Tris asked.

     Charles laughed.  "I have been cultivating my acquaintance with the
dear Bursar for the past year.  He has been most attentive to my
suggestions as it relieves him exercising those few cells left between his
ears other than contemplating a long drive up the fairway or whether his
dear lady wife has counted the glasses he has already consumed."
  He put his finger against his nose.  "Mother did have a bottle of Chivas
Regal which was spare and..."

     "...That has oiled the wheels, so to speak," Tris said and we both
laughed.  "Anyway I thought Bursars were usually old Army or Navy types..."

     Charles's hands were raised.  "...Time to break the mould which has
encrusted the workings of this College for too long...."

     "Wrong sort of mould..." persisted Tris.

     "...Dear soul, I am speaking figuratively of both."  He paused.  "What
does a poor boy do whose first degree is not of the highest quality in the
subject he chose to pursue?"  He shook his head.  I missed the swirling
mane.  "I am imbued with the social mores of such thinkers as dear Thomas
Hobbes, Hume and poor Rousseau...."

     ".....Come off it!  Machiavelli more like it..." said Tris with a
countering flick of his hand..

     "Touch‚, dear Tris.  I must survive and I feel I have much to offer
this College.  It has been my home for the past four years and I would feel
the wrench of parting deeply."  He sighed.  "There I have bared my soul.
It is now for the Master to decide on my future.  He has been most
supportive in my endeavours and the...." He paused again.  "...the Finch-
Hampton Bequest, though not on a par with the value of the Pennefather, is
not inconsiderable, and gives the College a good deal of leeway in its
development.  He has given me carte-blanche, as it were, subject to
planning permission to develop the site of Hampton House.  Old Dr Congreve
the Fellow in Architectural Studies is to supervise and he does have a good
reputation.  So, I must look to the future..."

     Liam was listening attentively as well as pouring tea and handing
round the tea-cakes.  "Mr Tomkins says the College needs a kick up the
arse.  I'm quoting and he should know."

     "Too true, dear Liam, too true."

     There was a contemplative silence for a few moments but then I
remembered what I wanted to find out.

     "The Bursar's discount, Liam?  The pipes?" I asked, "Are they all over
the place?"

     Liam looked at Charles who nodded.  "Yes, Mr Foster, most of the sets
have the extra pipe with extra taps..."

     Charles laughed and held up a finger.  "...I shouldn't enquire too far
as a certain Captain Henry Foster, Royal Engineers and a Captain
Sven-Petter Jensen, Eleventh Hussars, would seem to be responsible for the
planning and supervising the installation of pipework, at least on this
staircase."

     "My Grandfather?"  I said.

     "And Oliver's as well?" Tris added.

     "Correct," said Charles, trying hard not to laugh.  "They appear in
detail in the very comprehensive logs of the Servant of the Chapel of the
day.  But then what might you expect after the rigours of the War and that
so-cold winter of '47."  The finger was by the side of his nose again.  "My
dears, as you enjoy the discount all the time under the terms of the
Pennefather Bequest I think sealed lips are in order, do you not agree?
And I can assure you, precious Tristan, the desk, completely re-polished,
will be installed in the morning.  We have been a trifle engaged today,
haven't we, young Liam?  And for you dear Mark, a small something to
display by those exquisite busts of Bach and Beethoven on your mantelshelf.
I found it in my carry-on bag I brought from the States.  A souvenir of
that encounter with dear Mr Tommasini who so desperately wanted the David
as the centrepiece of his collection.  The modelling had to be exact."  He
went to a shelf and picked up a box and handed it to me.  "You must look
later as time presses.  I have to return to tell Mrs Chalfont-Meade all has
been accomplished.  Come, Liam, the clearing-up can take place later."

     We took our leave promising to meet up at seven thirty for the walk to
the Garden House Hotel.  We escaped downstairs giggling together wondering
how big the object was the box contained.  I allowed Tris to open the box
and there, all carefully wrapped in tissue paper, was a perfect replica of
David's Ear, as supplied by the British Museum.  We collapsed on the sofa.
"What did you expect?" Tris asked through snorts of laughter, "The dick
Michelangelo really wanted to carve?"  "'Ear, 'Ear," I said and had to make
a dive to catch the object as Tris threw it at me.

     We weren't surprised when Boswell also joined us that evening.  I
thanked Charles for the gift, with a straight face, and said Beethoven
could have done with a spare one as he was deaf.  We did not say what we
expected to find.  We'd wondered if Charles had secreted the whole range of
the other models in his hand luggage and imagined the reaction of the
Customs Officers if he'd been asked to open the bag.

     Anyway, the more I saw of Boswell the more I liked him and during the
course of dinner we found that he had been rejected as a student by the
College when he'd first applied as a Sixth-Former.  What he said really
incensed Charles who had to order another bottle of wine to calm his
temper.

     "Yep," said Boswell, "I came up for interview.  There was a crowd of
us and we'd been shown round by a couple of the Third Year students who
warned us of who we should go for, or avoid, for tutors."

     Tris laughed.  "I had the same and my guide was reading Law and that
was useful and he was one of Mr Fullerton's students and he praised him up.
I didn't tell him he was a friend of Dad's but it was a recommendation."

     Boswell grinned.  "My interview was disastrous.  I said straight out I
wanted to read History and Theology combined and the whole thing went
pear-shaped.  This little man went to town on me.  I was subjected to a
rant about the illogicality of religious belief and the study of History
would show it's deleterious effect on about everything that had happened.
He said he couldn't imagine anyone with half a brain wanting to study such
clap-trap, let alone proclaim it.  I said I didn't consider either the
Archbishop of Canterbury or the Pope to have half-brains and I was certain
mine was fully functional and I could see that one could study a subject
out of intrinsic interest in any case.  I wasn't accepted, so I went to
Cranwell instead where, at least, one could read what one liked."

     I could see the look on Charles's face.  Tris stepped in.

     "Was your interview with Mr Finch-Hampton?"

     Boswell nodded.  "Yep, I think that was his name.  Ferret-faced and
sandy."

     We looked at each other.  Very quietly, as Charles signalled for the
wine waiter, I went through the Pinch-Bum saga.  Boswell shook his head
sadly.  "Poor bugger," he said as I finished.

     "That book is closed," said Charles.  "A sad chapter in the history of
the College."


To be continued: