Date: Wed, 31 Dec 2003 00:25:34 +0000
From: Jo Vincent <joad130@hotmail.com>
Subject: Aladdin's Awakening: Part 83
Usual Disclaimer: If you are not of an age to read this because of the laws
of your country or district please desist. If you are a bigot or
prod-nosed fundamentalist of any persuasion find your monkey-spanking
literature elsewhere and keep your predilections and opinions to
yourself. Everyone else welcome and comments more than welcome. Those so
far have been very helpful in that they have given me the encouragement to
persevere!
This is a very long tale. It unfolds over a good number of years. What is
true, is true: what is not is otherwise. If you have trouble with the
English educational system let me know.
ALADDIN'S AWAKENING
By
Joel
CHAPTER 48
How Life Changes D
September 1949 - September 1950
Pa and Tony were overjoyed with my second son. He was named after both of
them - James Antony. The way Tony fussed over him when he returned from
his holiday was quite incredible. Kats said he'd make a good mother!
There was a great similarity between my two boys. Both were quiet babies,
even though Francis now was just beginning to try to talk. I took him out
every day in his pushchair and never tired of carrying him and chatting to
him. I still had other work to do. Mr Blane had sent me a French
manuscript at Easter and asked if I would attempt a translation. It was an
odd book, a mixture of religion and mysticism, but I learned a lot of new
vocabulary and ways of saying things. There were numerous very obscure
passages and I sent a draft up to London to Ma to see if she knew what it
was about. I was pleased with her comment that she could not have
translated it better!
Still, even she couldn't didn't iron out some of the knottier passages.
I would have to ask Dr Blake, or the philosophy student on the stair above
me, who I was sure would be able to help.
Tony was full of his trip to stay with his rugger pals. He and Perce
were now shagging each other at every opportunity. He also confessed that
both he and Perce had sucked and wanked the other two and Cas, the Welsh
lad, was a real randy little sod and on the final night when Perce and Phil
Laker had got so drunk they were fast asleep, Cas had fucked him. He'd got
lots of other tales, especially about Perce's elder brother who was a
Captain in the Horse Guards. Perce said it was quite true that there were
fairies at the bottoms of our Guardsmen. In fact, Perce's cousin often
hired the young soldiers as attendants for his dinner parties and the other
two the first night he'd been were, in fact, young Guardsmen.
I also found out Tony, crafty toad, had been to more of these dinners
without telling me. He said Billy Clarke had been at another one and it
was all he could do not to whisper his name. He sniggered and said at that
one the serving lads had very short white Greek kilts with gold edging and
white jockstraps underneath and gold circlets round their foreheads, ankles
and right biceps. He said that was the first night he'd been fucked by one
of the other attendants who had stayed on afterwards and shared his and
Perce's bed. He put his hand on my arm and shook his head. "Nothing so
good as you!" He was still hunting for his ideal partner.
I had found a very good poem by Rimbaud and Verlaine - very rude but
in such poetic language. I copied my translation of it out in best
copperplate and gave it to Tony for a late birthday present as I thought it
most appropriate:
Dusky and crinkled like a violet carnation
Crouched modestly amid the moss, it breathes,
Moistened with that love which descends that pleasant slope
Of palest buttocks to its embroidered lip.
We also had the news that Charley's foot had been operated on. The
prognosis was good in that the surgeon had been able to straighten it but
it would be several weeks before it was out of plaster.
*
Just before the end of September we took Francis and James up to
Chester for my grandparents to see them. Uncle Edward was driving up from
London and collected us and ferried the four of us up there. We were
staying in the old big house where Uncle Edward and Aunt Della now lived.
Grandpa and Grandma were now happily settled in a much smaller house very
close. My grandparents were so delighted. Their first great-
grandchildren! I don't think the four of us could have been fussed over
more. Little Julia took charge of Francis and they played happily together
in the garden. It seemed odd, my cousin playing with my son and she only
three years older.
While we were there Rhys and Alun turned up on the back of an old
motor-bike which Alun had bought and repaired. Rhys had been down to
Cardiff for a holiday and was now returning to the family law practice
where he was now a trainee solicitor. He lodged with Grandpa and Grandma
and was as ebullient as ever. Alun was now a fully-fledged engineer
working for a thriving company.
I was given a real roasting when the boys got me alone. Big-cock,
randy-balls, what the hell did a nice girl like Kats see in me? And so on.
I pointed out they'd answered the question by the names they'd called me.
As we were at that moment sitting up by the pond where we'd taken Francis
in his push-chair, Francis soon witnessed the stripping of his father of
his shorts and shirt so they could check if his attributes had increased
since they'd seen them last.
Unfortunately, as I had not had the opportunity to rid myself of the
build-up of my spunk for two days, young Francis almost witnessed his first
ejaculation, but, luckily, had nodded off, as his poor father was held down
and tickled and his foreskin pulled back to check for wear and tear. About
three or four tugs were all that was necessary for randy-balls Jacko to
spill his seed like the parrot - no, I mean the biblical Onan! Not to be
outdone they shucked their shorts and underpants there and then and gave a
brotherly display, kneeling either side of me, that their equipment was
also still fully functional.
I had taunted them, in a cousinly way, with still being virgins and I
said they were very lucky their tackle was all still OK after all the years
of use and misuse and they'd better get cracking so it could have proper
use. They threatened to dunk me in the cold, cold waters of the pond and
that would shrivel my ardour. I heard that at long last their brother,
Gareth, had conquered the young man's Everest, as he and his long-time
girlfriend, Jennifer Quigley, were to be married at Easter and they had
celebrated their engagement by a weekend away at some secluded hotel where
no questions were asked.... She was now a qualified doctor. I also heard
that Uncle Dick was rising sharply in the firmament. With the
Nationalisation of the steel industry he had been made chairman of some
very powerful governmental committee. Both boys had hitched up with
girlfriends. Rhys had broken off with his Cardiff one and was now wooing
one of the secretaries in the office. Alun was still going steady with the
sister of a friend and, wait for it, the lad with the giant-size tool had
four kids now.
I had to tell them that married life wasn't all getting one's end
away, as it were. This was especially so in my case as I was away at
Cambridge. They were amused, then solicitous, when I said I'd had about as
much solitary sex in my married life as I was having before. I pointed out
there were also times in the month, long periods when your wife was
pregnant and then, after the child was born, one couldn't resume one's
conjugal relations for some time. Neither had realised this and wondered
if it was worth-while getting married. I pointed to the push-chair and
said that was the worth-while reason!
They wanted to know about all that happened at Cambridge. They were
highly amused at my description of Tony going off to his dinners in London
and seeing the lad we both knew. I told them Tony had enthused about the
food he'd had served to him. On a Roman night they had started with
oysters and then something which was supposed to be roasted larks' tongues.
Rhys giggled.
"Why the laughter?" I enquired.
"Oysters," he said, giving another snigger. "You know they're
supposed to be an aphrodisiac, don't you?" He slapped my leg. "Not that
horny Jacko would ever need one!"
"Yes," I said, ignoring the last part, "I have heard of their
invigorating properties."
Both boys laughed.
"That's why you have to swallow them whole," said Rhys.
"What do you mean, swallow them whole? I know that," I queried.
"Everyone knows that!"
"But there's a reason," said Rhys.
"What's that, then?" I asked.
"Stops you getting a stiff neck, you fool!"
Rhys was on his usual form!
*
All too soon I had to go back to Cambridge. My final year. Then,
perhaps I might be able to provide for my growing family. Towards the end
of term Dr Blake was humming and hawing at the end of one of my tutorials.
I had reported that Bruce was doing fine and that the other two of my
mentor group were very enthusiastic. At last he got round to telling me
that the Modern Language faculty had had a meeting to discuss Junior
Research Fellowships for the next year. I had been recommended, but not
only that, there was a joint governmental scheme between the English and
French authorities for an exchange of emerging scholars and, if I was
agreeable, my name would be put forward for this scheme. He knew my
interest was in eighteenth century French Literature and that would be most
acceptable if I could fine it down. I could be registered both for the L
es L, the French equivalent of the BA, and also put my research forward for
a doctorate and possibly for a full Fellowship. I was flabbergasted!! I
had realised I was quite good. I was nowhere, in my little mind, as good
as a couple of the lads who were doing maths degrees or that very bright
philosophy student above me on my stair who had examined some of the
concepts in the book I had translated over the summer. Having a drink with
them was an experience as ideas and abstractions were bandied too and fro.
I hoped I could keep my end up - they never told me I was a fool as I
managed to shut up when I realised I was getting out of my depth. Perhaps
I had other strengths!
All this had to be cogitated on as it would mean Kats and I and the
boys living in Paris as I would be attached to the Sorbonne. The stipend
wouldn't be huge, trust a Labour government and parsimonious Frogs, but
living expenses would be adequately covered. Tony was all enthusiastic and
that was that. He was also over the moon as he had been offered a research
grant towards a BPhil degree. He confided in me that he was going to spend
most of the year writing a novel.
*
The reports at Christmas from Charley were that things were better
than he could ever have anticipated. His foot was now straight, one size
smaller than the other, but who cared! He didn't! When could he see us
all? He was busy now helping his father run the estate but there was
always a place for us to stay.
Two others who had interesting news were Nobbo and Cleggy. They
appeared one afternoon when Tony and I had been left in charge of the
infants. They were progressing well and were now fully preoccupied with
their third year of medical study. Well, almost preoccupied.
They had inspected the two boys and said from external appearances
they looked healthy and well. I said they should be, they had all the best
attention and I knew Kats had almost learned Truby King off by heart.
Nobbo sniggered at this point and Cleggy poked him in the back.
"Go on," he said, "You're dying to tell them. I don't mind."
Nobbo composed his face. "Have you heard of artificial insemination?"
he asked.
Both Tony and I nodded. We knew about cows and bulls. What was all
this about?
"Did you know it's done with humans, too?"
We shook our heads.
"Well it is," he continued. He grinned. "And we're part of it."
"What do you mean?" asked Tony, as clearly puzzled as I was. I really
didn't know the intricacies of how they did it with animals. And why were
two medical students involved? Surely real doctors would do whatever was
necessary?
"Better start at the beginning," said Cleggy, butting in, "Tell 'em
how it started."
"OK," said Nobbo, "It was like this. One of our friends in our flat
has an older sister and she works for this guy in Harley Street. He's a
gynaecologist but his speciality is providing ladies with babies whose
husbands can't."
Both Tony and I sat up straight.
"You mean he fucks them, eh?" said Tony.
"No," said Nobbo, "Nobody fucks them, as you so delicately put it. He
just inserts a sample of sperm and lets nature take it course."
"Whose sperm?" I asked, becoming aware of some revelation.
Nobbo looked very serious. "Could be ours or any one of about five or
six of us."
"Who's 'us'?" asked Tony.
"Me or Nobbo," interjected Cleggy, "Or one of three or four other
medical students."
The whole story came out. This friend had been asked by his sister
outright if he would be willing to be a sperm donor. He had freaked out,
not realising his sister even knew the word, or even where the stuff came
from. He had placed his sister on a pedestal forgetting she was personal
assistant to a very famous consultant. When he calmed down she informed
him quite firmly she had known what her little brother was doing in his
room from the age of thirteen and a half and if he made as much noise now
as he did then and for the next five years, she was certain his flat mates
must be fed up.
As he knew his flat mates made similar noises he had passed on the
message and both Nobbo and Cleggy were now going regularly on Thursday
mornings at eight thirty to Harley Street, where, in a small side room they
wanked off into small jars independently and consecutively. They collected
five pounds each and were very happy to do it. The friend and their other
flat mate provided their contributions on Tuesdays. Nobbo said the friend
was still very apprehensive but as his sister had been aware for all those
years of his regular habit he'd carry on now containing his embarrassment
as the five pounds a week was a steady income for something he did anyway.
Tony and I said they'd had plenty of practice themselves, especially
tossing off into small jars, when they did their so-called scientific
survey. We also wanted to know who the women were. They said they were
never told, but there had been a lot of men who had become impotent through
illness, or injury, or being in prisoner-of-war camps during the war. I
thought to myself that I didn't think Hans was in that category as Tom and
I had seen a goodly output of his spunk that day we had spied on him. The
secretary had let slip there were Italian women, too and dark-haired donors
were a must for them and that was why certain students were chosen rather
than others. So, Nobbo and Cleggy could be parents without knowing their
children. Or even how many they produced. And, might be Italian children,
too. Fancy turning up in Rome or Florence and not realising there were
little Nobbos and Cleggys abounding! Odd, very odd!!
I thought also about Nobbo's brother, Billy. How much was he getting
paid for each of his outpourings of sperm? I was sure those dinner
evenings must lead to something more for him as well from what Tony had
said about that particular one! Two brothers. Payment for the same
outcome!!
However, Kats and I decided not to tempt providence ourselves. I
had proved I wasn't impotent or infertile so I was encased now each time we
copulated. Plenty of times. No solitary sex for me at this time! It was
as if we could never have enough of each other's company and we made the
most of it!
New Year 1950
Both Flea and Lachs came to visit after Christmas. Mr and Mrs Marcham
liked having visitors and were very accommodating having all my friends to
visit. Anyway, no one could not like the brothers. Separately they were
good company, when together they were great fun. Flea was the second to
arrive and stayed on for a few days after his poor, harassed brother went
off. Lachs had got his second pip so had the mickey taken about having to
lick the Colonel's boots, or worse, to get it. I heard Flea squeal more
than once when he was summarily punished for some wild quip or rude
suggestion.
As soon as Lachs had gone Flea got all confidential. Had Lachs told
us about him and Audrey Milverton? Lachs was sniffing round her in great
earnest according to her brother Antony. Wow, Audrey Milverton! After
appearing in a couple of films she was now in a long-running play in the
West End. She was always being interviewed, especially in the tabloid
press, as she was quite a stunner. She had been linked with several young
men, but, according to Flea, most of this was pure supposition. She and
Lachs had been spending as much time as possible together. No! As far as
Flea knew they hadn't. But!
He wouldn't be surprised if Lachs lost his virginity that way before
long. Wait and see! He giggled as he said she was taller than he was but
he didn't think that would matter because Lachs was most well-endowed! And
we both knew how randy he was, didn't we? I leaned over and put my face
close to his. "Speak for yourself, Pilot Officer Pullitoff!"
Also, Antony was doing very well. His initial screen performance had
meant he'd been signed up by one of the better British film studios. He
had turned out to be a much more likeable young man, according to Flea. In
fact, they both came to Cambridge and stayed for a weekend and I employed
Lord Harford's largesse for our benefit.
Tony and his friend Perce came too and we had a most convivial evening
under the watchful eye of old Bert at the Blue Boar. Antony was really as
beautiful as he appeared on screen and I could see both Tony and Perce
sizing him up. There was much speculation later that week when Tony came
round for his usual tea and chat. Was Flea and Antony having it off? I
said I didn't know and he wasn't to spread any rumours! I knew they both
had invites to visit him and Perce in London, I guessed at the cousin's.
However, I didn't have much time to ruminate on such matters as this
term was going to be the most important time of my life so far. I had to
do well. I concentrated on my work and really enjoyed it. It was odd, but
Jem and Sam kept me going as well. Jem made sure I was clean and tidy.
Sam sent round all sorts of chef's tidbits to go with my mid-morning pot of
tea.. I went for long walks most afternoons, my leg being almost back to
my old strength, working out in my mind all the possible things the wily
examiners could ask me. Jem and Sam made full use of my absences and the
pair were so, so close.
Their little world had a bombshell. At the end of February they both
got their calling- up papers. They were counselled to try to get into the
same trade. The Army Catering Corps was the suggestion and I got the
impression that certain people would be making certain that goal was
achieved.
So, the examinations came. My vivas in French and German were taken
by dons from other colleges with a Professor from, I think, Durham, as the
external examiner in one of them. He questioned me very closely on a set
of medieval French poems I'd studied with Dr Blake and I knew I was well in
control. What did I make of 'Si tu dures Trop malade, Couleur fade Tu
prendras, Et perdras L'embonpoint'? I launched into a lengthy diatribe
about the beauty of this poem and of others by the same poet, Marot. I
even managed to dredge up lines from another poet and compared the two
showing how the tight syllabic structure pushed the Marot poem on but in
the other the sinuous lines did a similar job. The old boy nodded sagely
and then fired three quick questions in German, even though I was not going
to have my viva in that language until a couple of days later. I must have
done my best as one of the Cambridge dons present, when he saw me to the
door, whispered he was glad I had cheered the old buffer up! I think he
said 'buffer'.
So, the final written exam loomed. This, in fact was very late on in
the examination period. Tony had finished his ordeal two days previously.
This one was an afternoon paper, three hours from two until five. Overall,
I thought I'd done reasonably well in the others I had taken. There were
questions on particular parts of the syllabus I knew well so I thought I
would get at least a third, perhaps a second. I couldn't judge myself.
I was just coming out of the examination halls after this final paper,
chatting to Frankie Thornley who had taken the same paper, when I saw three
figures standing in a row. They were the College Dean, the Chaplain and
Tony. Tony looked as if he could hardly stand and the Chaplain was holding
on to his arm. Behind him stood the King's College Chaplain looking very
woebegone.
The Dean hurried towards me and took my arm and ushered me back
through the door I had just exited.
"Got to see you urgently," he said and we walked quickly and entered
an ante-room. Tony followed him. "Better sit down," he said. I looked at
Tony. His face was streaked with tears. The Dean, who, over the three
years I had grown to respect as a very fair-minded and most generous
person, looked particularly distraught. "I have to tell you, there's been
a serious accident," he began.
This was too much for Tony. He rushed to my side and collapsed on his
knees beside me. He clasped me round the chest. "Kats and Roo have been
killed," he said quietly, his voice breaking into sobs. "Our Kats and
Roo," he moaned.
The Dean came and knelt the other side. I was so stunned I couldn't
think. Kats and Roo dead. My first thoughts were for the boys. "My
sons?" I asked in a weak voice.
"They're all right," the Dean said so kindly, "they weren't there."
Tony was a bit more in control of himself.
"They were in Roo's new car," he said, "he was giving Kats a lift home
for lunch. They were going across that crossroads at the bottom of
Cathedral Hill and an army lorry couldn't stop and crushed the car." He
broke down again and wept. I was too stunned to do or say anything.
My thoughts were racing. My parents-in-law had decided to hire a
nursemaid for the boys. Kats had wanted to go back to work and did so
three mornings a week. Roo had bought himself a prewar little car - a bit
of a racing car, which he'd informed me was pretty fast and would go like
the clappers in the summer with the hood down. That summer would not come.
"Tell me again," I said, quietly.
The Dean put his arm round my shoulders. "Just as Tony said. It's
bad news. Your father will be here soon. Do you want to stay here or come
over to my rooms?"
I said I would go with him. I looked at Tony as he stood up. He had
been devastated just as I was.
"We'll manage," I said to him. "It hasn't really hit me yet," I said
to the Dean.
He led us out and he and the Chaplain walked me back to college. Tony
went with his college Chaplain and he said his father was on his way, too.
I was still in my examination togs and a very subdued Jem brought over
my everyday clothes and I had just changed when Pa appeared. We hugged
each other and that was when my flood-gates burst. We clung to each other
and both wept. After that all was a bit hazy. I remember thanking the
Dean and Chaplain and I remember getting into Mr Marcham's car with Pa,
with Tony already sitting on the back seat. I remember seeing Willy and
Jem closing the doors of the car and their haggard looks. My only
consolation was a whispered comment by the Dean as he said good-bye through
the window of the car. "The examiners have awarded you a First without
what you did on today's paper."
I was in a daze for several days. My sole comfort was I was able to
sit and hold my sons. Poor Tony, he sat by me, he had lost a beloved
sister and a good and great friend. I had lost my lovely wife and Roo, my
friend, too. He too, held one or other of my sons and wept.
Pa stayed and Ma came up from London. They were a great strength for
me. And also for Tony. Mr and Mrs Marcham were pillars as well. It was
strange. >From that first night back Tony and I slept together. Quite,
quite, without any other connotations but a deep friendship and sincere
companionship. Of course, I had to see Roo's parents and his beloved
brother, Kanga. Kanga was in his first year at King's College London but
was at his parents' side immediately. A very welcome visitor was Flea who
wangled a whole week's leave and talked to me of so many things. He sat
next to me at the inquest. It was an open verdict. An accident. The
lorry driver was in hospital but it was clear it was not his fault. The
lorry had been overloaded and the brakes had failed and there were plenty
of witnesses on that Wednesday lunchtime to the tragedy of the accelerating
lorry. The driver's attempts to swerve. The small car. The collision.
The aftermath. The aftermath now of my two infant sons and me and Tony and
Kanga, all the parents, friends and also Audrey, who Roo was going to get
engaged to in the summer. All these lives changed with an incident that
took moments to happen.
Two funerals had to be attended. Tony sang 'Ave Maria' at both. Both
were crowded occasions. Aunts and uncles and cousins were at the funerals.
Grandpa and Grandma, too. So many friends, as well, Kerslake, Cambridge,
Ulvescott. Aunt Mary and Miss P brought the thoughts and wishes from Lady
Bing and the Duchess. There was a certain finality in those occasions. It
was as if pages in the Book of Life had been turned. Those left had to
carry on.
I was almost overwhelmed with the thoughts and kindnesses and letters
and condolences of so many. I had a tear-stained letter from Tom. He was
in Germany and couldn't get home. His thoughts were with us all. There
was a telegram from Matt. He would come and see me as soon as possible.
Letters came from the O'Briens.
Mother, father and Anne. Maureen sent me a pencil sketch of a scene in
London. It was perfect. A letter came from Rome. Mike was so
understanding in what he wrote. He was now a deacon and studying hard.
Letters from America, Switzerland, from aunts and uncles and families, and
Germany, too. Hans' letter was so heartfelt. He was now engaged to be
married and was so desolate over my loss. His happiness, I hoped, would be
assured. He was full of praise for my Aunt who had kept in touch with the
family over his brother Friedrich and had visited them. Friedrich was now
fully recovered and they were all looking forward to the time when I could
visit, too. Hans must have contacted Herr Vogel as there was a letter from
him also. Someone else to visit. I was supported and uplifted by all this
love.
Two letters came a little later. Another from America, the second
from a country in the Middle East. Sayed's letter was full of sadness for
me. He said he been overwhelmed by the kindness of my family, he wanted me
to know how much he valued my friendship, that of my parents and,
especially of Andrew and Lachlan and their family. There was joy in the
letter from him, too He said he been blessed with a happy marriage himself
now and doubly blessed by the birth of his own first son. He would be
honoured if at some future date his son and my sons could also be friends.
The other letter, the one from America, was from young Georgie, now in
his first year at Harvard. I knew of his great scholastic triumphs at the
school in Ipswich from his bosom friend, Flea. Georgie had been awarded a
scholarship to Harvard before even taking his Higher School Certificate
examinations. He was studying philosophy in the most prestigious
department imaginable. I knew he had been accepted at both Oxford and
Cambridge as well but, Georgie being Georgie, had decided to go to America.
I wondered how the Americans were coping with that wry young man. There
was a heartfelt straightforwardness in his condolences - he knew what I was
feeling, his beloved grandmother, Farmer Catchpole's wife, had died a few
weeks previously. I wrote to them both and felt that somehow shared our
mourning.
*
A big family event was Gareth and Jennifer's wedding in Cardiff on
Easter Saturday. I cried off at the last moment. They understood. I
wanted to be there but I was too far gone in my own grief. But, I had to
do some very serious thinking about me and my future. A letter had arrived
two days after we arrived home. It was from Dr Blake. That final paper
had clinched it. My First was now starred. Tony had good news too, he
also was awarded a First. Small consolations for the loss of loved ones
but Dr Blake's letter urged me to carry on with my academic work. The
Junior Research Fellowship and the exchange arrangements were all in place.
It was up to me and if he could be of any assistance just let him know.
I didn't have to discuss things with Mr and Mrs Marcham. They had
Tony as my advocate. There were to be no arguments as far as I was
concerned. The boys would be looked after. The nursemaid was fully
trained and James was weaned and Francis was as bright as a button. He was
rather disoriented with all the comings and goings but the loss of his
mother was something to talk to him about when he was older. There was a
home for me in the Marcham household whenever I wanted it. I was to go to
France. It would be for about ten weeks at a time for two years. What was
two years? Time then to take stock.
*
I returned to Cambridge a fortnight after term had started. I saw the
Dean and Chaplain immediately and thanked them for what they had done and
said how sorry I was that they had to break such bad news. I was told that
I was to go to either one at any time if I needed. Friends and
acquaintances there rallied round. Hearty rugger-buggers and boaties,
eggheads and swots, ordinary lads and a few lasses all helped in their
general comradeship. Willy saw to it I was not disturbed. Jem and Sam
kept a weather eye on me. They were both leaving on the fifteenth of June
for their basic training. We consoled them by saying they would be back in
eighteen month's time. Peter Beckett and Mark Collins, now worldly-wise
undergraduates, were a great support. They brought news and views and
regaled Tony and me with all their doings. They were so enthusiastic about
everything and were doing well.
Bruce kept me amused with his running commentary on his new-found
sexuality. His sturdy dick was now a thick five and half inches when
erect, proudly displayed on the second day I was back, and his voice had
dropped with his balls. He'd been banned from playing rugger for the last
three matches of the previous term as he'd lost his temper and walloped an
opposing forward who had raked his boot over another's player's face. The
gentle giant was now full of teenage rages and we all felt we had to keep a
slight distance. I thought back to my own sixteen-year-old self and the
feelings I had then. Here was he, twenty-one and going through the same
phase. Professor Tillotson had told him the rages would subside as the
hormone he was being given sparked off an outpouring of other chemicals and
his body had to get used to it all. This was side-effect he had been
warned about. One more term of injections and that would be that, he hoped.
He did have one other altercation. Several of us had gravitated to
the Champion - mainly to celebrate a couple of birthdays - when Bruce came
in from having visited the 'pissoir' as most of us, rather more elegantly,
termed the stinking urinals behind the pub.
"Fuckin' Bluey fucker," he almost rumbled as he lurched, slightly
inebriated, onto a sturdy bench, "Said he'd seen something fuckin' bigger
on his friggin' mother's teapot. Thumped the bastard. Mouth full of
fuckin' piss now, I hope!"
I and one of the others, one of the boaties, I think, decided we had
to investigate. Also, I needed a piss myself. Sure enough, a recumbent
figure was lying, head in the ground level trough. He was just coming-to
and shook his head groggily. We took an arm each and dragged him so he was
sitting upright on the wet floor. It was the ginger-haired crab- merchant.
I realised: 'Bluey', Aussie for 'Ginger'!
I am afraid the boatie gave him a none-too-gentle toecap in the
goolies. The youth clutched himself and gave vent to a stream of oaths. I
didn't realise that our parents were unmarried and that our main interests
in life included intercourse with young men, pleasuring young ladies with
our tongues in parts of their anatomy usually discreetly veiled and
practising the sin of Onan most regularly. As the boatie was also included
in this catalogue as a co-partner who was also intimately acquainted with
my penis inserted into his rectum on a frequent basis, which unfortunately
was not true as he was a comely lad, he sharply reprimanded 'Bluey' again
with a second application of the end of his foot..
I caught hold of the abundant ginger locks on his head and lifted him to
his feet. He was at least six inches shorter than me and quite a weedy
specimen. I let go. He was holding his aching bollocks with one hand and
put the other on top of his head and rubbed that.
"That big fucker came out here," he lamented, "Waved that midget
whanger at me and I thought he wanted it done. Then he hit me! Big
bastard. Now I'm all wet and you've fucking done me in, too! I didn't mean
no harm!"
Actually, I felt rather sorry for him. He was only doing what he knew
best. What a life! Waiting for his - what would you call them? - clients,
in the evil stink, and wanking or sucking them off for a bob or two. Or,
in Jeb Townsend's case, finding a quiet corner to fuck or be fucked. The
boatie must have had the same thoughts. He shoved a hand in his pocket and
drew out a ten-bob note.
"Here, take this and fuck off," he said, thrusting the money into his
hand. "And watch what you say in future!"
We sauntered back into the bar. Bruce was consoling himself with
another pint of best bitter and no one else seemed at all concerned. Next
morning I got the whole story. Bruce had relieved himself and, now so
pleased with the growth of his dong, had been holding it and peering at it
in the dim light of the urinal, while chuntering on happily and rather
drunkenly about his now most prized possession. Ginger-nuts had been
lurking in a cubicle and took the delayed departure of a rather happy
sounding giant as a signal that some sort of service was needed. He'd
sidled out and taken up his station beside him, had glanced down and seen
the smallness of the unerect organ and had made his unwise comparison and
then received the full force of Bruce's hurt feelings. I had to try very
hard not to laugh!
*
Dr Blake was full of praise as well as condolence. Praise over the
exam result, praise over the care we'd all taken of Bruce, praise over the
decision to go to Paris.... Plans, plans, plans. I had to decide on the
major thrust of my research. I also had to find somewhere to live. The
second was easier than the first.
Matt came to see me in Cambridge and stayed overnight. He had a
bright idea. In fact it was the perfect solution. His friend the French
naval officer, Julien, lived when off duty with his parents on the
outskirts of Paris. Monsieur LaRiviere was a very high-level
'fonctionnaire', a Civil Servant in one of the many French ministries in
Paris. There was Julien, three sisters and a much younger brother, Daniel.
The last daughter had just got married so the parents were in a large house
in the suburb of Ivry just with Daniel, who was still at school at a lycee
in Paris. They also had a flat on the South Bank where Matt often stayed
with Julien who used it as a base. If I was willing he would contact them.
He liked the family and, although Monsieur might seem a little stuffy, he
was quite all right once he had accepted you. It sounded ideal. He wrote
a letter, there and then, I enclosed a curriculum vitae, plus a promise to
help Daniel with his English studies.
That night I slept with Matt properly, not just sharing my narrow bed.
For the first time since that fateful occasion with Kats I had sex with
another person. Matt was gentleness itself. We loved each other as
brothers and the best of friends.
I fucked him slowly, passionately and a lot of my hurt evaporated. He
loved me back giving me himself fully and completely. I felt as if I could
love again. I knew I could love again. In those acts that night, dear,
dear Matt helped me over an enormous hurdle in my speeded-up life. That
one night was enough to convince me I could be a person again. He was
happy, too. He had met a soul-mate he thought. Another naval officer.
His name was James Morris and he came from Cardiff and, well, well, well,
he knew my cousins. Oh, yes! I remembered that Alun had told me about a
friend who was a naval cadet. It must be him. Small world!
Of course, they had to keep their relationship a secret. Any hint and
they would be discharged, dishonourably. Matt spoke of Jamie Morris in
such loving and glowing terms I hoped they would be happy when they could
live together. Jamie was now a Lieutenant- Commander and in charge of
general supplies at one of the naval bases. He lived off-base in a large
bungalow and Matt and he saw each other as much as possible. Matt was
taking a signals course next and was hoping to go to Paris himself within
the next year or so. His friendship with Julien was also rather intense.
However, Julien had his own great friend who was stationed in Saigon and he
rarely saw him. Matt had spent some time at Easter in Paris with Julien
attending the wedding of the sister and said they had to look after the
young brother, sixteen coming up to seventeen, as mother and father then
went to their country home further South to rest and recuperate. I think
Daniel must have cramped their style a bit! Matt was also so pleased about
something else. His father had been promoted again, to Rear-Admiral, and
was now in charge of large sections of Naval training.
Charley came to Cambridge for a couple of days just before Jem and Sam
were going on their call-up. He insisted we take them to the Blue Boar on
his father's card. Of course, they knew old Bert. I think it turned out
he was a relation of Sam's father's brother's wife or thereabouts.
Needless we had royal treatment and the four of us, in dinner-jackets and
black ties, borrowed for the boys, were real men about town. Charley still
carried a stick, a silver- topped cane, but he walked normally now.
*
Ma and Pa came to Cambridge for the degree conferment. I felt very
proud with my rabbit-fur trimmed hood and graduate gown. Jacques Pierre
Francis Thomson, BA (Cantab). The first rung on a ladder? I wondered what
the future now held.
Much had to be done over the summer. I did another translation for Mr
Blane and decided I would wait until I got to Paris to decide on the
precise topic of my research. Tony, I and the nursemaid, a delightful lady
in her late twenties, took the boys to London and spent three weeks there
giving Ma and Pa much joy in seeing their grandsons. Many more books were
bought to be devoured.
Things were happening to others as well. Billy Clarke planned to do
an MA and had been promised a job with the BBC in the fledgling area of
television. No one knew much about it. There had been broadcasts before
the war and there had been a desultory start up again. John Parker had
been appointed to the cello section of the orchestra at the Opera House.
He was going to stay at the flat though until he found his feet. And,
something of a surprise, Tim, with a newly minted BMus and further study to
do, was wooing Maureen O'Brien who was now doing a sculpting course at the
Royal College of Art. The most surprising bit of news, however, was that
Vince Hare was going to be a missionary! Like his cousin, Mike, he was
going to be a Catholic priest and was going to join the White Fathers
college at Mill Hill in London now he'd got his degree. Wow!
*
So September came quickly. The LaRiviere's had sent an immediate
reply. They would be delighted to have a friend of Matthew's as a guest in
their house. They insisted I would be a guest. The only payment, to speak
English to Daniel and to Madame. I said quietly tearful cheerios to my
boys. Oh Francis, Oh, James, you don't know how much I love you and how
much I will miss you.
On Tuesday the twelfth of September, Tony and I, set out for Paris.
He was accompanying me, he said, to prevent me from falling into the sink
of iniquity which everyone knew Paris was, full of beautiful women,
alluring young men and seething with unmentionable depravity and vice which
innocent youths such as I had fallen victim to over many years. I said his
only reason for wanting to come with me was to stock up on stinking French
cigarettes and he had another think coming if he fancied any alluring young
man as no one would want to be associated with his ashtray breath!
Actually, he was spending a week's holiday with me before returning for his
BPhil year at Cambridge.
We couldn't have been given a greater welcome. Monsieur LaRiviere was
short, with a waxed black moustache and very formal manners. He also had a
twinkle in his eye and a cigarette on the go all the time. Madame
LaRiviere was tall and stately. Very much like Ma. Must be something
about French ladies. Daniel was just seventeen, the week before, tall like
his mother, spotty, black-haired, also formal, but with an impish look when
he relaxed. He made some remark, sotto voce, after looking me up and down
and gauging my height, slimness and black hair, that I must be 'Le
General'. He got a stern look from Papa as General de Gaulle was someone
one did not mention lightly.
We had a large room - which was to be my combined bedroom and study -
on the third floor, next to Daniel's equally large room. I had been told
about the lack of plumbing in French households but was gratified to find a
bathroom on the same floor - I had to share it with Daniel but had also
been told that French boys washed even more rarely than English boys. I
was much taken with the bed - which I shared with Tony during his stay - a
vast mahogany-ended construction that, mercifully, was silent when Tony
bounced on it as soon as he saw it. We did have sex together now each
night as Tony said he was going to miss me terribly as well as Perce, Cas
and Phil who were all off now to make their way in the world. What would
he do?, was his plaint. I observed he'd find more boaties, rugger-fiends
or members of the choir to seduce, no doubt. And there were always the
Guardsmen - I remembered my effort all those years ago - 'A Guardsman's
prick is awful hard, said Alice!' As we were in bed when I said this he
nuzzled me, felt for my own standing at attention weapon, and murmured
'I'll always prefer yours'.
He referred to our bouts of love-making as 'seminal moments' and
wondered if he should also send a few samples to the quack in Harley
Street. Five pounds a time. He nudged me and asserted that I must have
deprived him of several hundred pounds of needed income having sampled his
output so many times. I said a dozen oysters would be cheaper, but, here I
hesitated thinking of those many times I'd savoured my friend's copious
outpourings, but a dozen oysters could never give me the pleasure I'd
experienced with him.
We both then got a bit maudlin. He said he knew that would be the
only way he'd have children and I was so lucky to have loved his sister. I
said I had loved her with all my heart and mind and soul. It was only
seeing my sons and having such good friends that kept me going. He cheered
up a bit and said he was so lucky in that I loved him, too. I kissed his
cheek and said that any child he fathered could only be as good and as nice
and as loving as him. He complimented me and said he knew my sons would be
just like me. Ten pounds worth of our maleness flowed freely and
inseminated further our feelings of esteem, admiration and respect for each
other as we lapped and gorged ourselves on those streams of warmth and
potency. We slept content and further sadness slipped away.
Daniel was deputed to take Tony and me around Paris. He was a bit
iffy at first about it, but as none of his Lycee friends lived in the
district and we treated him to a reasonable lunch most days, he was
mollified. In fact, he became quite garrulous after a day or so. That is,
he spoke sentences, rather than grunted adolescent single syllabic replies.
Pa's friend had come up trumps again with a new bundle of French francs so
that accounted for a taste of French cuisine at midday, not that the meals
at the LaRiviere's were anything but top quality. A formal dinner each
evening unless Papa and Maman had to attend a governmental function which,
I was told, was often once the holiday season was fully over. During the
week Tony and I came in for two tickets for a concert in Notre Dame through
Papa's influence.
Daniel explained the intricacies of the Metro system and we travelled
widely on it. All three of us particularly liked Montmartre with the huge
white church atop. But I also had things to arrange. One morning I was
left while they went off to explore a flea market and I registered with the
postgraduate research department and also signed up for the accelerated
route to the L es L. Daniel was rather impressed by all this. He was due
to take his baccalaureate next year and he wanted to attend the Sorbonne as
his father was a graduate of that university and also of a Grande Ecole as
well.
By the fourth day he was even speaking in paragraphs and he and Tony
were always giggling about something or other, especially when Tony acted
the fool as the quintessential Englishman abroad! Although Tony was very
fluent he always insisted on speaking English in shops and restaurants
until startling the assistant or waiter with a stream of eloquent French.
In the evenings he closeted himself with Monsieur and spent hours talking
with him, both wreathed in cigarette smoke, as Tony now smoked like a
chimney. I talked to Madame and Daniel and also played to them on the
boudoir grand in their very ornate French Empire drawing room. I was sorry
to see him go and Daniel was a bit morose as well.
Monsieur remarked on how intelligent my friend was and he hoped he would
be able to visit again.
As Tony said goodbye on the station he gave me some photos taken at my
wedding which seemed an age ago now. Of him and me and Matt. Of all my
friends in their smart uniforms or morning dress grouped round me. Of me
with Bran and Finbar. He said he'd also left a few packets of ciggies to
bribe the Frogs, he'd stocked up with more than his Customs allowance of
foul French fags and was sure he could persuade some old lady or sweet
young boy to carry a bag for him. Daniel actually said he wouldn't mind
going back to England with him but he didn't know if he was a sweet young
boy. Ow! Wow! Tony's charm! We laughed as we said cheerio to him as he
insisted on the three kiss farewell and I saw his tongue dart against
Daniel's lips on the third kiss. Tony, you are incorrigible!
The next few days streamed by, I had plenty to do, sorting a timetable
for myself out and organising myself. So, here was I, on September the
thirtieth, twenty-one years of age, in Paris, a grown man now by English
law, now able to vote, a widower with two young sons and a future I knew
not what!
To be continued:....