Date: Sat, 17 Jan 2004 23:28:09 +0000
From: Jo Vincent <joad130@hotmail.com>
Subject: Aladdin's Awakening: Part 87
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.
This is a very long tale. It unfolds over a good number of years. What is
true, is true: what is not is otherwise.
ALADDIN'S AWAKENING
By
Joel
CHAPTER 51
September 11th 1951 - September 1952
On the journey down to Dover from London we were pretty quiet. This gave
me the chance to review some of the things Tony had told me about his stay
so far at Garforth Hall. Luckily he didn't tell everyone about the ten
books I'd discovered and now had secreted, so far unread and still in the
two cardboard boxes, in my bedroom wardrobe at Kerslake. But, he did
announce a couple of other findings while having after-dinner drinks in the
garden on Saturday evening after Francis and James had reluctantly gone off
to bed.
"Well folks, thanks," he started, laughing as he generally did when
rather excited. "Thanks for not asking me how I've been getting on,
labouring away in a dusty hole while you've all been enjoying the summer
sun."
Pa took one look at him sitting there in shorts displaying his legs
and snorted. "I doubt if you got that tan slaving in the dark. I think
I'd better tell Bobby Lascelles he's been paying you under false
pretences."
Tony laughed again. "Sorry, but the arrangement is quite clear. I
work in the library in the mornings and do my own thing in the afternoons.
I've been getting into the library at six a.m. just as his Lordship goes
off riding. So he knows and I've managed to get quite a bit done and...."
He waved his hand dramatically. "....I have made two discoveries which
should be great value to the house of Harford...." He looked round and saw
we were all looking at him. "Heard of Audubon?" he asked.
Ma smiled. "Birds?" she asked.
Tony nodded. He turned to me. "Remember that box of documents you
pulled out first?" I nodded, the one with accounts and railway documents
and God knows what else. "You didn't notice what it was resting on?" I
shook my head. "Well, you missed a great prize. A genuine first edition
of Birds of North America. Eighteen twenty seven. Pristine condition.
Don't think it's been opened since it was put there. In fact, I don't
think many of the books have ever been off the shelves. Did find a copy of
Winnie the Pooh and one of Wind in the Willows which Charley said were his.
That was until Gussie claimed them. I didn't let him claim the other find,
tho' I had to ask him what it was. He'd done Greek at school and what I'd
found was a copy of Ovid's Metamorphoses published in fourteen ninety-
eight."
That caused quite a gasp. Over four hundred and fifty years old.
"Interesting. It was in its original binding slipped into a leather
cover so it looked like any other book on the shelves."
Daniel and Johann were together that night so Tony was in with me. I
said he'd sparked off quite a discussion about books. I said I didn't
think his parents realised that there were some very valuable old books.
He laughed. "And not all old books are valuable," he said, "I guess ninety
per cent of the stuff on the shelves is old tat, beautifully bound." He
nudged me as we lay facing each other, "And what about your valuable little
hoard. Bet you and those boys have been wanking nineteen to the dozen over
the illustrations, eh? Where are they? They're not out and around?"
I laughed and said I hadn't even unpacked them except for Therese, but
the boys had enjoyed my translation of the 'secret' book. He wanted to
read the complete manuscript so I said he could. I had put both my typed
up copy of the French and the English translation I'd made in a parcel with
a letter to Dr Blake. I asked him to post the parcel to Dr Blake as soon
as he had finished reading it. Also if he thought any of my translation
read clunkily would he make a note and include the notes with the letter.
I then showed him how Robin had pleasured young James the wood-boy as it
was said in the manuscript that Robin had the 'longest and most powerful
broadsword of them all' while James boasted 'he was the champion of those
who could endure and enjoy and give most pleasure to such as Robin famed,'
...pour sa vigueur et sa puissance..., 'for his potency and power'.
Why he called me a boastful toad I don't know!
*
Pa had come up trumps again. Somehow he'd got us a wodge of Belgian
francs as well as German marks so we were able to get a reasonable meal on
Brussels station before getting on the train to Cologne. Customs and
passport checkers didn't bother with three lads, poor students, all with
different passports, so at six in the morning we caught our next train
which trundled up the Rhine valley toward Bingen. Wow, when we arrived who
should be there to greet us but Hans and a smaller version of himself, his
brother Freidrich. What an emotional meeting. Hans was home and I was to
visit. My German flooded back as I introduced the boys - Daniel had a
little German but Freidrich spoke reasonable French - so after that it was
all chat. Hans wanted to know about Ulvescott. He was sad that Bran had
died. I knew Bran liked Hans because he often went to the barn to sit with
Hans while he worked at his wood sawing and chopping. He asked about my
friends and especially Flea. I heard Daniel saying that Friedrich and his
younger brother must come to Paris and Friedrich said they also had been
invited to Switzerland by Johann's mother. I just wondered. All these
different nationalities, all friends immediately. Why did we have such
things as wars?
Hans had his father's car and we managed to fit in, clutching such
belongings which wouldn't fit in the boot. The welcome at Hans' and
Friedrich's home, a large farm-house, was stupendous. Frau Zimmerman was
large and blonde, just like the two brothers. We were enveloped in huge
hugs. Hans' father and their younger brother appeared soon after as they
had been delivering some animals to the market. His sisters were no longer
at home, they had married and lived in Frankfurt and Karlsruhe.
We were tired but the excitement kept us going. We had a real German
farmhouse lunch and were then taken by Hans on a tour of the district.
More food in the evening and a stein of beer and I was ready for bed. I
had a room to myself and for once I was glad. I slept like a log, or even
two logs, I was so tired.
Frau Zimmerman said she couldn't repay the wonderful English people
and those in Switzerland who had cared so much for her sons. Johann and I
said we didn't need repaying. When people needed friends we were sure they
could be found. Friedrich still had a bad leg. He had been shot through
the calf of his left leg and part of the muscle had been destroyed and had
been badly infected. Nevertheless, he had walked the best part of five
hundred miles to get home. Hans was very protective of him and both were
studying engineering. We met Hans' fiancee who was also large and jolly.
The younger brother was a quiet lad. He wanted to work on the farm and
take over the running from his father.
What we did enjoy very much was the German beer! After a litre and a
half of that, young Daniel was giggling so much we thought he would pee
himself. Actually, walking back from the bierhaus he excused himself and
we heard him noisily pissing in the bushes. "Little boys with little
bladders!" was the taunt. It rebounded on Johann and me as both of us had
to get up in the night. We bumped into each other on the way to the lav
from our separate rooms. Both of us were still slightly drunk and stood
side by side, arms round each other's shoulders carefully aiming - my order
"Foreskins withdraw!" set us off giggling, too. No, we didn't miss!
We spent an extra day roaming around. Because we had the Student
Tickets we were able to travel anywhere by train. Hans and Friedrich took
us to Frankfurt and we met their eldest sister. She had two young boys now
and Uncle Hans was most popular. What got to us was the devastation caused
by the war. But, there seemed to be a great determination to rebuild..
We left for Strasbourg on the next Tuesday. We managed to find a
small Pension just by the Cathedral. We had a large room with a double bed
and a single. Our first visit was to find the church where my and Johann's
grandfather had preached. The old custodian remembered Le Professeur and
we sat and contemplated the ornate rood screen in the austere interior of
the large building. It seemed strange that only a few years previously my
own grandfather had stood in that pulpit and my mother and her sisters had
sat and listened to him.
We set off the next day for the visit to Barr and again had such a
marvellous welcome. Both the sisters were there, now both widows and I
think we three lads were looked on as honorary sons. Ma had given me
letters for them both and a piece of Wedgwood china as well. Luckily the
pieces were intact! One of the sisters gave me a French Bible that had
belonged to my grandfather. I said I would give it to my mother as she had
very little to remind her of her early years. They did let slip that both
had had scary times during the war and Daniel nodded sagely. We found that
the Cathedral in Strasbourg had been closed all through the war by the
Nazis, adorned with a swastika, and had only recently been reopened
properly as it had been damaged by Allied bombs towards the end of the war.
A great attraction was the astronomical clock. Also, we had noticed that
streets had both German and French names still.
The next day we explored La Petite France, the medieval part of
Strasbourg. I found a second church, St Thomas, and Ma had said her father
sometimes took services there. A strange place, with a huge carving to
Marshal de Saxe. There was so much to see and I was glad that the others
seemed enthusiastic as well. They were very enthusiastic when we had
Strasbourg goose for our evening meal on Friday. They were especially
enthusiastic, too, after two bottles of wine between us, to thank their
poor old cousin, whose feet must ache so much after all that walking - and
whose cock was pleasantly aching after both had had a final nightcap! I
had the pleasure of two nightcaps!
So, on to Neuchatel. Aunt Lilian was there waiting with the car at
the station. She stared when she saw her son Johann. Now kitted out like
a young Englishman on holiday, sandals (no socks!), smart khaki shorts,
tanned legs and a green shirt - and, she averred, at least an inch taller.
I couldn't tell her his cock was now a full six and three-quarter inches
which was at least an inch longer than when I had first met him. She
welcomed Daniel who she said reminded her so much of her father in the
early photographs. I, as the patriarch, stood back. She hugged me and
cried a bit. She still remembered Kats, as I did every day, who had made
such an impression when staying on our honeymoon. I had to tell her that
Francis and James were well and, yes, at some time I would bring them with
me. She also had news. Ma had telephoned to say that Penelope Louise
Cameron Thomson, daughter of Lachs and Audrey was born earlier in the week
on the eighteenth. I found a suitable card and sent it to Audrey's
parents' address somewhere in Surrey. Gosh, a baby and she was going off
to America to make the film in November! I wondered what Lachs would do?
Daniel and I had just under a week with the family. A week crowded
with boat-trips, cable-car trips, train-trips! We had a meal at the hotel
where Pascal was now working full- time during the University holiday. He
was studying economics and wanted to take over the hotel with his elder
brother at some time. Young Walter, now fourteen and a bit, was a
beautiful boy. Not quite so shy as before and on the Wednesday he came
with us for a boat- trip on the lake. Daniel and Johann teased him
unmercifully, but having two older brothers he knew to take it all in his
stride. We heard that both Heinrich and Hubert were in the police force.
We could almost hear the clicking of heels!
We actually visited Johann's grandfather twice. I remembered that
elegant chalet he now lived in, so different from the monstrosity. He was
mellower and was intrigued about Daniel's place in my family and how I had
discovered it. I didn't actually say I discovered it after we'd had a very
intense sex session in bed, in fact, Daniel explained it by saying he had
just told me of the way his parents' names fitted. Perhaps my playing of
Brahms, Beethoven and Faure helped him to mellow even more! Actually, the
old boy must have been getting very generous in his old age as he gave
Daniel an identical bank pass book to the ones he'd given Johann and me and
said we would all find there was something extra for us. When Daniel
showed us the entry in his I did a quick calculation of what ten thousand
Swiss francs was worth.
That night, after Daniel had peered for the thirty-thousandth time at
his pass-book, shaking his head in disbelief at his good fortune, that
young Fontane and this slightly older Fontane showed the third Fontane how
a combined 'jeux des semences' cemented family ties.
Poor Johann. When we first arrived his father handed him a missive
calling him up into the Swiss Army for his two year stint. Luckily, as he
was at the University he would be allowed to train at weekends but there
were other parades during the week. I volunteered to break one of his legs
and Daniel said we wouldn't need to do that because his eyesight must
surely be too bad to see to fire a rifle because of.... Johann was a
strong boy and both Daniel and I were quickly flat on our backs on the bed,
clutching each other and laughing so much. Johann had an easy task in
dealing with us. We then jointly worsened his eyesight and when Daniel and
I said goodbye to him, for the present, on Neuchatel Station on Saturday
the twenty-ninth he whispered he thought he could still read large print.
Daniel was another one who was so different according to his mother
and father. One big difference was he was now really fluent in English.
It was me now who had to get back to speaking and reading French.
Sunday the thirtieth of September I celebrated my twenty-second
birthday. Monsieur and Madame took Daniel and me out to a very posh
restaurant in the centre of Paris for dinner to celebrate that and other
things. Monsieur was very pleased, not only to have his son back home, but
he had been awarded a very high officership of the Legion d'Honneur.
What a year! But what efforts I must put into achieving things during
this next one. This started straight away. I had to write up as much of
my thesis as possible by Easter. I still had a mountain of books to read
and most of them were as dry as dust and more than repetitious. I actually
got the Librarian I usually dealt with faintly interested in the findings I
had made concerning Garforth. He let me have a look at the catalogue for
'L'Enfer', the naughty books catalogue, and there were my ten! I didn't
tell him I had each of them beautifully bound. I checked the manuscript
and my transcript of it. Yes, I had made a few errors because of the haste
I had been in.
News from home include that of the General Election where the Tories
under Mr Churchill as Prime Minister were now in charge. Uncle Edward must
be popular, he had an increased majority. Mr Parker was also re-elected
but had his majority reduced. There was still rationing of many things and
a lot of unrest. Some people were saying they did better when the war was
on. The French weren't much better either, from the grumbles that Monsieur
brought home from the office. It was most enlightening hearing how things
were coped with at a high level especially with the rumours of a change of
government..
I heard from Tony that his supervisor had said it was a waste putting
his thesis in for a BPhil he should write a couple more chapters with a
comprehensive bibliography and put it in for a PhD. He was thinking about
it. He got a sharp note back. Do it, or else!
Actually the twelve weeks went quickly. Daniel and I talked together
most evenings. I checked his English and he read my essays I wrote for my
L es L. We did not indulge at all until the week before I was due to
return to England for Christmas. Again, we spent a long weekend at the
flat. It seemed odd but Monsieur practically asked us to use it. He said
if no one stayed then it would go to rack and ruin. Madame enlightened us.
That weekend there were to be special meetings for the ratification of the
Schuman Plan dealing with French and German industries and they were having
to accommodate several important people who did not want to stay in Paris.
Would I mind my room being used?
On that visit to the flat Daniel initiated everything. I let him as
he was so passionate. The first night, Thursday, we fucked each other
three times and hardly slept all night as we took everything very, very
slowly. Neither of us went to the University or the Library on Friday, we
just lay savouring each other's company and bodies until hunger drove us
out in the evening for a tremendous meal. I lost count of the number of
times we had raised each other to just before a climax until neither of us
could contain ourselves any longer. I think I came three times more, each
time so much more intense than before. After supper we returned, replete
and slept spooned together until next morning when, between seven o'clock
and noon, we fucked each other twice more again. Daniel just couldn't get
enough. He was moaning and writhing and urging me on all the time.
Luckily the flat below was empty as any neighbours would have thought there
were at least half a dozen ardent lovers above. We went for a trip on the
Seine that afternoon and ate that evening at a small restaurant where
Daniel said the truffles grated over would give us plenty of energy again.
We just caressed each other in bed that night until, head to groin we took
each other's fountains of seed and shared them and slept. Truffles or not,
the feelings for both of us were so immense.
We didn't know what Madame la Tricoteuse made of us. Our comings and
goings were erratic over that weekend, not like our other comings and
goings which were many and never erratic. We did go to our respective
duties on Monday after making sure neither had any spunk left in them
before our other breakfast, and when we met at five to pack up and go back
to Ivry, Madame smiled as I handed her a good-sized note. The old bat
thanked me and said that Monsieur Julien and his friend, obviously male,
had been there the weekend before but I was so generous!
This set Daniel off on the train as he never knew that Julien had used
the flat. He was rather concerned in case Julien had walked in on us while
we were 'a quatre pattes', on all- fours, which was his own euphemism for
'you know what'. I just said I expect Julien would have liked to have
joined in and if his friend was half as good looking as Daniel I wouldn't
have minded giving him a good English 'dix-huit centimetres'. Daniel
looked rather shocked, then hurt. "We were there, for us!" he said
emphatically, in English! He obviously liked my English seven inches. I
just opened my mouth and waggled my tongue tip between my lips. He
squirmed on his seat. My tongue tip on the rim of his cock caused the
hardest and strongest of erections. Just the sight was doing the same.
One of my psychological pals at Clare had told me about Pavlov! I winked
at Dodo and mouthed, 'Later!'.
That night I broke my resolve not to have sex with Daniel under his
parents' roof. We did. He received my seven inches as he liked it, slowly
and deeply within him. I received him as I liked him, slowly and fully in
my mouth. We slept holding each other until we woke early and I quietly
left his bed and made my way to my room.
Christmas 1951
I stayed the night on my return the next day at the flat with Ma and
Pa.. She was celebrating the publication of her fifth book and the
announcement that the first was being filmed in February and Antony
Milverton was playing the role of the assistant to Inspector Buck, Sergeant
Prentice. Pa said I was to watch the New Year's Honours List as Uncle Dick
was rumoured to be in it. Ma wanted a first-hand account of the late
summer trip. She had had such heart-felt letters from Hans' mother, from
her two cousins and from her sister Lilian. I said the whole trip was such
an eye-opener and she had better prepare herself for plenty of visitors. I
said I imagined her in that church on a Sunday in Strasbourg and that the
verger had remembered Grandfather and that I felt very moved. More tears
were shed when I gave her the Bible. She said it was a pity I didn't know
my grandfather as he would have been very proud of me as well as his other
grandsons.
The Marchams were going to have a house-full of visitors as well for
Christmas as Pa and Ma were coming to Kerslake to join us. Pa said he
heard good reports of the way Tony was working up at Garforth Hall. Lord
Harford was full of praise for him and also the way he kept Charley from
straying off to the race-tracks. He had also learned to ride! I knew he
liked a bit of strong flesh between his legs and now he was copying the
young fillies he was always laughing about. ' 'Orgasms With and Without
Insertion!', a practical handbook, by Antony Marcham BA (Cantab).' I would
have to suggest it to him!
I went straight up to Cambridge for a couple of days. Willy was
unctuousness itself now. Mr Mason was finally retiring, 'worn out by
over-work' was the accepted reason but 'lifting the elbow' was more
correct. Willy was under consideration for the Head Porter's job. The
youngest in history. I knew he had the Dean's support and the Chaplain's
blessing and now Mr Phelips had gone he had a good chance. The story was
that Willy had rather overdone the Jeyes' Fluid and Mr Phelips had
complained that the combination of the uriniferous and the phenolic odours
gave him a headache and Willy had been overheard saying he could clean the
next load of piss off his own doorstep himself, which didn't endear him to
Mr Phelips' flinty heart. Then, with Jem being demobbed by Easter the lad
might come in for promotion to Assistant Porter. Keep it in the family!
Dr Blake was very sad. Poor old Peter, the farting canary was no
more.
Two of the dons had found him one morning stretched out as if asleep by
his favourite spot in the Fellow's Garden. Two of the students had later
left a cage with a real canary outside his door. With a note, 'RIP Peter'.
He knew there were two as he'd seen them from his window. Two of the
boaties. He had recognised them and had sent a note of thanks. Even the
boaties appreciated a bit of donnish eccentricity and Dr Blake and the
canary-like dog were a legend. The canary was by his desk. I wondered if
some applicant might get his place by some apposite remark when the bird
sang.
Anyway, he had news for me. His friend, one of the classics dons at
Pembroke, had had a competition to see who could identify my Latin quotes
and tags. Dr Blake said it had been entered into with enthusiasm and I
would have to reward that don in particular in some way. He thought he had
a full list. He handed me several sheets of paper.
There were about twenty quotations, some lengthy like Allan's pipe, some
a mere phrase as short as Castor and Pollux's young brother's tool.
Luckily translations were also included.
The title, 'O Audaciam Immanem seemed to be 'O shocking audacity' or
'boldness' and was from Cicero, his Philippics, II. How shocking and bold
we would see when my examiners read my translation!
The chapter title later, 'Corruptor iuventutis', three of them
identified as Cicero also, in Catilinam, two were adamant it meant
'corrupter of innocence', the third had pencilled in 'bugger' but rubbed it
out and written 'boy-fancier' instead. All three thought that the other
heading, 'ardens in cupiditatibus' came from Sallust, the Bellum Catilinae,
and averaged out as 'passionate in his lust'. That source was also quoted
for 'psallare et saltare elegantius' which my author had shortened, but in
toto (my Latin improving?), they all said meant 'plucking the lyre and
dancing with taste'. 'Wanking with feeling' was more to my taste and
fitted the context better! Oh! When Milord stroked Allan's hair and
smiled fondly at him the quote 'maxima debetur puero reverentia' was given
as 'the greatest reverence is the prerogative of a boy'. After extolling
Allan's beauty and his attributes, plus the other boys as well, I could see
the import of that quote. All said it was from Juvenal.
The epithets hurled at each other by Mars and James in their spat over
archery scores were most interesting, the least nasty seemed to be 'Saeve
puer' 'cruel boy', or more simply 'brute!' and was from Ovid, Amores I.1.
'Stulte', or 'thickhead', came from Ovid again but in Amores II. 'Vervex'
was 'mutton-head' from Petronius' Satyricon most probably. 'Hircus', was
'he-goat'. I laughed as 'ram' or 'stinker' also seemed to sum that up
nicely. The attributions were several. 'Quid nunc stupes tanquam hircus'
from Petronius' Satyricon again, meaning 'Why are you staring at me like a
randy goat' to the one I thought best, 'fu, oboluisti alium, germana
inluvies, hircus, hara suis!' from Plautus, Miles Gloriosus, which I
thought I could apply to a few obnoxious individuals I knew, ' Phew, garlic
stinker, dung-heap, goat stench, pig sty!'
'Pathice' caused slight difficulty I saw, one don had scribbled 'kept
boy' another 'catamite', both had Catullus poem 16. There was a long gloss
on 'cinaede' because the first don had said it was from the same poem and
originally meant 'dancer', but had a rather coarse meaning as well, the
second had simply written 'little sod'. The 'pedicabo ego vos et irrumabo'
was identified as being from the same poem. There was a bit of reluctance
over that one, I took the meanings of 'both top and bottom' and 'I'll have
you both up and down' as being slightly euphemistic for 'You'll get it both
ends, suck and fuck!'.
'Demisisti gladius in jugulum' was generally given as a variation on
'Your sword is buried in my throat' and was identified as Plautus, from
Mercator. Not one of them put anything about sucking dick, which the
librarian at the Bib Nat had hinted at immediately. I liked the phrase
from Horace Episode, 12, 'Inachiam ter nocte potes, mihi semper ad unum
mollis opus' 'You can have Inachia three times a night, but with me not
even once can you act...' as that had never been a problem with me.
My guess about 'patente porta' as being 'backside' was correct but the
source was most interesting. One don wrote almost a little essay
explaining that adulterers, if caught, were punished by having a rather
nasty suppository inserted, concocted from a bony fish like a mullet,
'mugil', and hot radishes. He also explained that trainers of horses used
a 'feague', a plug of ginger, in the same way to make their horses run
faster. He quoted from Captain Francis Groses's Classical Dictionary of
the Vulgar Tongue (1796) which stated that as well as ginger, 'formerly, it
is said, a live eel, to make him lively and carry his tail well'. My
opinion of some dons rose - a good sense of humour. All four who had taken
part identified it as a quote from Catullus again, poem 15, 'Attractis
pedibus, patente porta, percurrent raphanique mugilesque!' 'Feet tied and
backside ready open, a quick-acting suppository will be shoved in!'
Catullus seemed to be the favourite of my plagiarist. Quotes about nasty
suppositories must stick in the mind, too, as well as the arse! And a live
eel? Ugh! 'Pene languido senis', 'an old man's organ', as one rather
carefully put it, came from his poem 25. 'Limp dick' was what I thought
of. I wondered why my author hadn't taken the first bit of the quote as
well, 'mollior cuniculi capillo', 'softer than rabbit's fur' when dealing
with Allan's silky-skinned shaft?
The final Latin quote was the last straw. Right at the end of the
manuscript as the two lads left and the two new ones entered there was the
longest quote: 'Adde quod ingenues didicisse fideliter artes emollit mores
nec sinit esse feros'. All four had identified it as Ovid, from Epistulae
Ex Ponto. I gave a wry smile as I got the general consensus of the
meaning: 'Add, that to have studied the liberal arts with diligence,
perfects one's manners without allowing them to be unseemly'. Unseemly,
vulgar, coarse? Someone had their tongue in their cheek! At least the
lads in the story had been liberal with their arts!
Dr Blake's shoulders were heaving a bit as I finished and looked up.
"Well lad," he said, trying to suppress a laugh, "You've got a winner
there. I hear they're all clamouring to read it and Bertie Taylor has
pencilled you in to give a talk on your research next year to the Classics
group."
"But I won't be here next year," I said, "I've only got until July for
my Research Fellowship. I've got to find a job."
He looked very serious then. "That's the next thing," he said,
quietly. "The college is expanding because we are over-loaded with
applicants and we're also losing people to the new universities. The
Master and Council are setting up several new Fellowships. There's at
least one in Modern Languages. You have been recommended already." He
shook his head. "Not by me, wouldn't be politic. You've been noticed by
others." He smiled. "You write your research up both for the Fellowship
and for the doctorate."
I was astounded. I was expecting I might apply and get a job in one
of the newer universities or perhaps in a polytechnic. But here? I must
have been quite overcome. I had to blow my nose to clear my eyes.
"Is that possible?" I asked.
"Try it and see. Now let's have a look at that effort of yours. Your
friend from King's delivered it personally. We had quite a chat. He's an
interesting young man as well. Bobby Lascelles has taken to him and thinks
he's got a lot of potential. Takes the initiative and that counts a lot
for Bobby," he smiled again, "I've told him to aim for the doctorate too."
'My effort' was then pulled to pieces. If I was going to use the
eighteenth century idiom in English I had to get it right. This page?
This paragraph? What about this sentence here? And that one? Mr Marcham
would prove useful, he had made a few very cogent suggestions, perhaps we
should get together over the Christmas period and iron out the
infelicities, he has quite a flair for the niceties of phrasing, much more
than that old bore Leavis who wouldn't know a pikestaff from a pickerel.
As Leavis had been both an idol and a person of awe to Tony I wondered what
had irked Dr Butler about him? I would have to find out what a pickerel
was, too!
I must have looked like one of Georgie's 'gret dumb beasts' at the end
of the onslaught. Dr Blake looked at me and smiled.
"You learn the tricks of the trade very quickly," he said, "Comes of
years of practice. I've got two supervisions this afternoon. Come and sit
in on them. You might be able to comment."
As usual at noon the inevitable tap on the door, the covered tray and
the same red- haired youth, who announced that chef had included some
smoked salmon from Mr MacLeish who had been so pleased his son had passed
his degree. Hector McLeish had crossed my path. An affable young man on
the next stair. If rugger and whiskey were subjects for a degree course,
plus a knowledge of every dirty rugger song, then 'Tosser' would have been
awarded the highest honours rather than the scraped Third he managed in
History. He was also reputed to wear two jockstraps padded with
handkerchiefs to give the opposing forwards something to feast their eyes
on when preparing for a scrum-down. The real reason, so one of his buddies
confided, was that his dick was red raw from the attentions he paid it, so
it needed protection. He'd acquired the nickname early at Public School
whose inhabitants had marvelled at the seemingly unceasing bouts of
self-abuse by the gap-toothed newcomer of thirteen and a half years - so
the habit had started young! Still he was a good guy and I'd heard he'd
taken a commission in the Army.
I said I needed to go to Heffers but would be back by two. I wanted
some more books for Francis and some for James as well. I found four each
and the lady assistant who took my money asked me how my sons were. She
had remembered the previous conversation.
Ouch! If I thought Dr Blake was rough on me, the first student, doing
a BPhil like Tony, got a real roasting. I knew several of the sources he
was citing so when Dr Blake had finished with him he turned to me and asked
if I had anything to add - add, I noticed - I asked about one article the
lad had quoted from and we had quite a nice, quiet conversation about it.
I knew the author had made one particular assumption which he hadn't backed
up. The lad's eyes lit up as he said he had noted the same and had found
evidence. His jaw dropped a bit when I said what the evidence was. I
grinned and said he could have it for free, it wasn't my period.
The second one was too way out for me. He was not only translating a
set of early medieval love poems sung by troubadours but was also doing a
very detailed analysis of metre and rhythm in the original and matching all
this with a manuscript of very early music. He was much older, in his
thirties and from his looks I would have said he was Jewish. I said little
but asked in the end where the poems and the music manuscripts were found.
He smiled and said he had found them when in a monastery in Provence. I
must have looked puzzled. Dr Blake smiled.
"Not many Jews in monasteries, eh?" He looked at the man. "Why not
tell him?"
The story was fascinating. Harvey had taken his degree in French
before the war, was called up and had been in the RAF but was shot down in
1942 over France. He'd parachuted into the grounds of a monastery in
Provence and had spent the rest of the war being sheltered by the monks as
a pseudo-lay brother cataloguing their extensive library. He had come
across the manuscripts and the friars had allowed him to copy them.
When they had gone Dr Blake complimented me on the way I'd talked to
the first one.
"Remember to keep them on their toes," he said. "You should have seen
his face when you quoted chapter and verse, shows you've read widely and
you've got a good memory. But half the battle is not what you know but
knowing where to look!"
There was a note in my pigeon-hole in the Porter's Lodge when I had
finished being grilled a bit more by Dr Blake. I would have to mention
'pots de chambre' or 'vases de nuit' sometime! The note was from the first
lad inviting me for a drink in his rooms. I found Davy, who took my note
inviting him in turn for a meal at the Blue Boar - I thought my validation
from Lord Harford would still be extant. It was. Old Bert didn't even
pick it up but just glanced at it.
The lad was curious but never asked. We had a long chat and he said
he was teaching part-time at a new school in Cambridge but was applying for
jobs in various universities. He said it was rumoured I was in for one of
the Fellowships. I said I hadn't even known until today that new
Fellowships were being created. He said the Cambridge grape-vine was a-
buzz and he'd heard the tale from a friend who'd been at Emmanuel. I
smiled ruefully and said I had a long way to go before contemplating
anything. He then dropped another bombshell. What had I found because
another pal had been back to Pembroke and there were Classics dons arguing
and he'd heard my name mentioned? I said it was just a manuscript I'd come
across with Latin tags and quotes and as my Latin was rudimentary, help was
needed. Oh, blast! Say no more! He eyed me suspiciously but said nothing
more himself. That was, until we were walking back to college, replete,
with two gins and a half bottle of wine each helping our dinners digest.
"My pal heard them laughing and saying Catullus was a dirty old man.
I know because we had both done Latin at Higher Schools and our beak at
school use to say there was more hidden under the carpet than appeared in
the school books. He gave us a few passages to translate and Geordie got a
right wigging for saying 'Every time he fucks her..' for 'nam quotiens
futuit..' Actually, its good and old Packer had to admit it in the end.
So what did you find?"
I just laughed and said he'd have to read my thesis, but only if he
promised to keep both hands on the desk. Like Daniel he preferred
emphatics. "Bollocks!" he said.
*
As soon as I got home in Kerslake the next afternoon Francis demanded
where had I been as he needed a wee-wee! Gone for three and a bit months
and all my son wants me for is as a guide to the lav. He said he was in
charge with Milly as Maggy had taken James to the clinic for a check-up.
Milly turned out to be the teenage daughter of new neighbours, baby-sitting
for the afternoon. A good example of a horsey female as she was engrossed
in the latest copy of Horse and Hound as 'daddy has promised me a new pony
for Christmas'. >From the size of her I surmised she had probably eaten
the previous one, with double helpings of chips and mashed potatoes as
well. Still she was a jolly soul and listened patiently to all Francis's
demands except he wasn't allowing any female to take him to the lav.
I lugged all my goods and chattels I'd come home with up to my bedroom
and lay down for a bit of a rest. But, no rest for the wicked! In trots
Francis.
"Where's Milly?" I asked.
"Reading a book and eating a biscuit," he said matter-of-factly. He
climbed onto the bed and lay beside me. "I'm glad you're home," he said,
"Maggy said you would be." He looked at me closely. "Where's Daniel?"
I said he was at home in France and if things worked out he could
visit him next summer.
"Where's Johann?" came next. I explained he was in Switzerland. "Is
he going to the island?" I had to think that one out. Switzerland and the
Swiss Family Robinson. Johann had listened while Francis had read it to
him several times. I said one was a story but Johann actually lived in
Switzerland. "Uncle Tony's coming home tomorrow. I like Uncle Tony best
of all."
"Better than me?" I asked
"No, you're Daddy, but I like Uncle Tony."
"Why's that?"
He shook his head. "I don't know? Is he like Mummy was?"
I explained that his Mummy had been Tony's sister so they must be
alike.
"Mummy's in Heaven, Milly says."
"I expect so," I said, feeling suddenly sad.
"Where's Heaven?"
"I don't know and I don't think anyone else does," I had an
inspiration, "I heard Heaven is inside you. Where you remember people who
aren't here any more. So we all have a bit of Heaven in us."
"Is Bran in Heaven?"
What a memory! "If you remember Bran, he's in part of your Heaven.
He's in mine, too."
He put his arms out and cuddled me. "I love you Daddy, you'd be in my
Heaven if you weren't here."
We lay in silence as I contemplated the truths of a three-year-old.
Tony was full of news when he arrived back. He was almost half way
through the cataloguing, helped with the typing of lists by a retired
school-mistress who cycled in from the village three mornings a week. He'd
found a little cache of late nineteenth century porn which Lord Harford had
openly said was a general thing in a gentleman's cabinet of curiosities at
the time. His grandfather had kept a couple of mistresses and fathered at
least three bastards, so he assumed the books were his. Again, beautifully
bound and from the look of them, well-read. Tony said Charley was miffed
as he had never found them. His only excursions into the library were when
he was sent there to keep him quiet as a small boy before he was shipped
off to boarding school hence Winnie the Pooh and Wind in the Willows. His
other bit of news was that he had recognised Gussie, the next brother.
He'd been a guest at two of Perce's cousin's parties. He knew it was him
as he had no top joint on the little finger of his left hand. So
Gussie....? I raised my eyebrows at Tony. He smiled, "Captain in the
Blues and Royals. Quite unobservant, hasn't a clue I know him! Charley's
a bit scared of him."
No wonder. From Jem's revelations Charley had lost his virginity to
Gussie and was still being pursued. I would wait for more revelations. I
asked Tony about his work and he said he had decided to go on with his
research, in fact, Garforth Hall had quite a few obscure novels on the
shelves. Remaindered stock he thought but useful as extra padding! He
said he didn't realise how many novels of the time featured clergy and
cathedral closes. He had come to the conclusion that most of the daughters
of deans had spent their time concocting these awful sagas. He said he had
been concocting a tale as well. He'd completed about half but was going to
write as much more as possible over Christmas as my mother had said she'd
show it to Mr Blane. How did Ma know. Simple. She and Pa had been to
Garforth Hall so Pa could talk to Lord Harford in private. Also, I had
better watch it. Charley had spilled the beans about the manuscript!
As Gussie was there as well, Charley had imbibed a little too much to
calm his nerves and had asked Ma if she'd helped me translate the
manuscript before he had the sense to realise I would hardly ask my mother
for help with 'ils les foutent comme deux lapereaux'. Oh God! I was in
for a grilling from Ma!
Francis was on top form. He shadowed Tony bombarding him with
questions. Tony was Patience on a monument. He was nearly stumped once.
"Does Mr Churchill do poo, Uncle Tony?" he asked, to stunned silence
at the lunch table on Sunday. We all knew Francis' obsession with poo.
Best to humour him. I saw the glances round the table.
"Why is that, Francis?" asked Uncle Tony.
We waited, agog.
"'Cause his name is Winnie, isn't it, and that bear must do poo 'cause
that's his name."
Oh, logical son. Oh God, was that bear really Winnie the Shit? Like
Dick the Turd! Get out of that one, Uncle Tony.
"No Francis," said Tony, "Sometimes words that sound the same mean
different things. Like your red socks and the book you have read. We say
'red' for both but they're different, aren't they?"
We waited while Francis pondered.
"I know," he said, "Tart!"
We waited! How does Francis know about loose women?
"That's a jam tart," he said pointing to one of the puddings on the
table. "And Grandma made a face this morning and said the gooseberries
over there were tart because they needed sugar."
Father, at least, breathed a sigh of relief.
*
There was another week before Christmas so, with the two boys being
entertained by Maggy and Milly, Tony and I were able to get on with our
work. I had two essays to hand in for the Sorbonne course and had to read
Pride and Prejudice again, with notes from Tony, for my English group I was
tutoring there. I tidied up two more chapters of my thesis and was on the
final stages of putting my three authors in the context of their lives just
before and after the Revolution. Tony was very busy not only writing up
more of his own thesis but writing his 'novel'. I read the first six or so
chapters in his abominable handwriting before he took them to the typist in
his father's office. I asked him about the title 'To Dance and Skylark'
and he said it was part of an old naval command for rest and recreation.
The story was of two brothers who had survived the Great War and was the
tale of their disparate lives. It was full of humour and of pathos. I was
struck by the deft way he was able to convey a character or a scene in a
few words. It was a work, to me, of true imagination. I was astounded.
Where did the ideas come from. He was twenty-two and writing a book with
the assurance of someone, I would have thought, much older. When I asked
him, he just tapped his head. 'It's all in there and I've got ideas for
the next one, too!'.
*
One person who came on a fleeting visit was Lachs. He came and stayed
overnight en route from some Ministry of Defence meeting up North before
spending Christmas with his baby daughter at Audrey's parents. Audrey was
still filming in America.
We were sitting in my room soon after I'd collected him from the
station. We had said little on the way to the house other than the usual
pleasantries. I congratulated him both on the birth of his daughter and on
his promotion to Captain. He'd dumped his bags in my room as, per usual,
we were going to share. He looked less soldier-like than usual. One
reason was he was in civilian clothes. I asked how he was getting on as
Flea had said he was being seconded to the War Office.
"Can't tell you much," he grinned, "I'm working with Cartwright. He's
a Major now. We're actually in military intelligence."
I confess I giggled. That was one of Old Mother Riley's examples of
an oxymoron.
He shook his head. "I know, I know," he said with mock weariness,
"You should hear what Edward says! Anyway that's it and that's all I can
tell you. And you haven't even heard that. Promise?" I nodded. "My
office has 'Supplies' on the door and three old boots on the filing cabinet
in case anyone asks what we're doing."
Lachs was just the same on the surface, but I sensed there was an
underlying worry. I didn't enquire. If it was to do with his work I
couldn't enquire. If it was to do with his private life he would tell me
in his own good time. We talked on and he did become more relaxed. Mrs
Marcham had arranged a really nice dinner in his honour and Francis and
James were entranced with Uncle Lachs.
He didn't unburden himself as we lay and talked in bed that night. We
reminisced about our earlier days. He'd heard from Georgie who was now in
his third year at Harvard and doing well. He had been working in a fast
food restaurant in Boston all summer and said he got more tips because of
his 'cute Britisher accent'. We laughed and said we hoped it wasn't his
Suffolk one or he might end in Boston harbour like the tea. Flea seemed to
be flying all over the place and was training on jets abroad somewhere. I
sensed Lachs was lonely. We just slept soundly. He said in the morning he
only hoped he and Audrey could settle down somewhere sometime. I said if
he ever needed to talk or ever needed me just ask. I knew it would be the
same for me. We hugged each other but nothing more.
Before he went he said he had something for me from Sayed. It was a
small curved dagger with a note that indicated he and Lachs had made a bond
and that Flea and I were included. He said he had valued deeply the way he
had been accepted by the whole family. Family ties were important. I
didn't ask, but as I held the beautifully crafted object, Lachs whispered,
"We were as one!".
*
Pa and Ma came up from London on Sunday the twenty-third laden with
presents which were quickly placed under the Christmas tree before Francis
had a chance to pry. Christmas Eve we all went, including Francis and
James, to Midnight Mass as Tony had been asked to sing. I think we were
all deeply moved by his beautiful voice. He sang the solo of 'Three Kings
from Persian lands afar' with the organ and the wordless choir singing the
underlying chorale. I had played it for him when he practised, but in
church that night it sounded so ethereal. I wondered why I could not
believe.
Christmas Day was a riot, especially when Cleggy, Nobbo and Hal
Beechley turned up mid-morning and pretended to be carol singers, much to
the amusement of the boys. Oh Gosh, Cleggy and Nobbo were now in their
fifth year of medical training and Hal had joined the Royal Army Medical
Corps and was a Corporal at the depot near Aldershot.
Two glasses of hot punch later they departed and we prepared for
Christmas Dinner.
I knew Ma had something on her mind and just as we finished dinner
completely, Christmas Pudding and mince-pies and all - especially the all
as I saw Mr Marcham pour Ma a very large glass of Benedictine to go with
her coffee - out came the queries.
"What is this manuscript you are working on?" she asked, as far as I
was concerned, out of the blue. "Your friend Charles says it is very
important."
What could I say. I could hardly say outright, in mixed company, that
the main part of it consisted of descriptions of husky young lads wanking,
sucking and fucking to the general delight of all involved and that said
manuscript had been written for the delectation of two of my friend
Charley's ancestors. I prevaricated and said it was a manuscript of a
rather dubious sort written by one of my authors I was studying name of
Jean-Antoine Leferreur. It just so happened he had met and corresponded
with ancestors of Charley who had got burnt up in a big bonfire in Jamaica.
"Ferreur, you say?" she asked, "A blacksmith. I've seen that name
recently. Would it have been at Garforth?"
I said I doubted it unless Tony had found any of his books on the
shelves. Tony shook his head. He hadn't so far, time would tell.
That was that. Mrs Marcham changed the subject somehow and I went off
with Francis and James to play with the toy train they had been given.
I wasn't to be let off the hook. Ma cornered me in the kitchen just
before lunch on Boxing Day.
"Ferreur," she said, "I thought I'd heard that name. Your Uncle
Johann wrote a long letter with their Christmas card and I've brought it
with me. I think you ought to read it."
She handed me three closely written sheets and a fourth one with what
looked like a table of contents on it. The letter was in French - good
easy French to read and I scanned the content quickly. He sent greetings
first and said he was sorry he hadn't been able to spend more time with us
boys on our visit but he'd been tied up writing the contracts for a big
deal. He said we'd absolutely charmed his father who was behind the big
deal and if it worked was set to increase his already considerable fortune.
Being a lawyer Uncle Johann didn't say this in so many words but, reading
between the lines.....! He had been instructed to see the three of us had
our accounts topped up regularly and I was to be told to check with the
Cambridge representatives of the Swiss Bank. Oh, I had more or less
forgotten about the pass book.
He then went on to say that a friend, who was French and a lecturer at
the University in Neuchatel, had investigated my mother's and Aunt Lilian's
family tree a bit further. He had found out two further generations back
in the Fontane family and one of the people was well-known at the time of
the Revolution and was very lucky not to have lost his head. This was
because he'd written a couple of books which could have been construed as
being pro- Monarchy....... I stared. One of my authors had been arrested
but had been freed and more or less exiled to the country. Oh. No! It
was Jean-Antoine the author of the 'secret book'!
I scrambled through the rest of the letter which detailed how this
friend had contacted the cure of the church in the village where
Jean-Antoine had died and had been sent details of his marriage years
before and the baptisms of his children and marriage of his surviving
daughters. I turned to the last page, the table of contents turned out to
be a fragment of a family tree:
Jean-Antoine Leferreur married Marie Constant in 1761
Born: 1740 d. 1790 Bn: 1742 d. 1770
Children: Marie bn 1761 d 1761
Louise bn 1763 m. Charles-Phillippe Beaufois
Agnes bn 1765
Agnes Leferreur married Jacques Fontane in 1787
bn: 1765 d. 1820 bn: 1763 d. 1819
Children: Joseph-Antoine b 1788 d 1789
Clement b 1790 d 1845
Clement Fontane married Marie-Elisabeth Fevrier in 1820
bn: 1790 d. 1845 Bn: 1800 d. 1866
Child: Jacques bn 1820
I looked at Ma. "That's him!" I yelled out for Tony who came
scurrying and nearly passed out when he had digested the contents of the
letter. Lunch was forgotten. The whole family congregated round the
kitchen table. The next half-hour was just a mess of trying to work out
what all this meant. I had chosen the three authors because I had heard of
one - not Jean-Antoine - during a lecture and then discovered the three
were friends. I had thought it a good idea to see how their books
intersected as I had noted that my chosen one had used references to
Shakespeare's and Ben Jonson's plays and then had discovered Jean-Antoine's
plagiarism of the later English book. All went from there. Now
Jean-Antoine was one of my ancestors!
When we had finished going through the tree Tony was howling with
laughter. I knew why. He had read the manuscript. At least, no one had
mentioned the manuscript yet today. I explained that Jean-Antoine had been
a friend and correspondent of George and Arthur Lascelles and I had found
letters to and from the trio at the Bib Nat and at Garforth. Luckily
things got a bit quieter after that and we did get lunch. However, I
wasn't to be let off so lightly.
I was in my room later in the afternoon re-drafting a chapter -
working on Boxing Day! - when Pa tapped on the door. I knew it was him,
the wafting aroma of pipe-smoke had preceded him. I turned and smiled at
him, I don't know why, because I knew what he would ask.
"May I enter the scholar's abode?" he said theatrically, waving the
pipe.
I thought I'd better spike any guns.
"I suppose you want to know what I found?" I began.
He laughed. "Believe me, I can guess. Robbie Lascelles told me when
we were up there you found this dirty book in Paris. He's actually highly
delighted. He said it'll put his stock up no end with the Defence crowd
and with his pals at the club!" He looked at me and grinned. "Boys, eh?"
I nodded. Oh, Pa! I'm not considered a little boy now, am I!
"I guessed as much when he said those two had been exported to Jamaica
because of shenanigans with stable-boys," He must have seen the look on my
face. Pa about to discuss such things. "Oh, come off it, Jacko, boys have
been boys from time immemorial and I bet you've seen a thing or two!"
I must have blushed a bit.
"You must think us oldies are thick and past it," he said laughing.
"Just remember we were your age once and you're not the only young'un to
get a young girl in the family way, or been in the bushes with a friendly
boy."
Crikey, confession time! I just said, "Uncle Edward wasn't young!"
I didn't add and how did you know I'd been in the bushes, or elsewhere,
with a friendly boy? Actually, a considerable number of friendly boys.
He laughed. "And I suppose the book is not for the faint-hearted and,
as you say, it deals with boys, eh?"
I nodded then burst into laughter. "And did Lord Harford tell you
what I had in two cardboard boxes as well?"
He laughed as well and nodded. "You'll make your fortune one day from
what I heard."
"Did Ma send you up here?" I asked.
He nodded and grinned.
"And if I show you the manuscript you won't say what an awful son I've
turned out to be?"
"If you only knew!" was his cryptic reply.
I retrieved the translation from the top drawer of my desk and handed
it to him and said I would leave him alone so he could read it in peace. I
grinned and said he might want to skip the philosophical bits and should I
arrange for a glass of reviving brandy when he'd finished?
I went downstairs and spent the next hour and a half being harried by
Francis and James who had woken up after an afternoon nap and needed
Daddy's attention. Luckily Uncle Tony was on hand as well so we two poor
creatures didn't end up being too exhausted.
I saw Pa come downstairs and go into the dining-room where Ma was
helping Mrs Marcham prepare the table for supper. Mrs Marcham was busy
getting glasses from the kitchen when I heard a startled "What!" from Ma
and then a burst of laughter from both. Tony looked at me and grinned.
Ma didn't ask anything else but I did get in a dig about horror story
writers in the family. Actually Ma's last book wasn't bad - snide -
Inspector Buck solved his cases well. And, there was the excitement of the
filming to come. She said she had nothing to do with the film-script but
when she had read it through it seemed all right. At least she was getting
a percentage of the film rights which Mr Blane had advised to stick out for
rather than a lump sum.
I had to tell Tony about the conversation with Pa and that night we
celebrated in my bed as Allan the coney-catcher had with John the
blacksmith when they 'lavished equal attention upon each other's most
divine attributes of pipe and...' Baguette de tambour '....drumstick'! My
drumstick certainly battered his drum that night! And having sampled tasty
baguettes of a generous size in Paris, Tony had nothing to grumble about
for what he received for his first course - boastful me!!
Ma and Pa went back to London, with Pa in a very good mood. He kept
looking at me and grinning. Ma was also in a good mood. She shook her
head and said she never knew her four times great-grandfather was such a
man. I said he was an author, like her, full stop! She looked at me and
screwed her eyes up. But, she did give me a cheque for a hundred pounds!
Tony and I were slaving away, both entertaining the boys and getting
on with our work, when Mrs Marcham came up with the bright idea of us
taking young Francis for a couple of days to Ulvescott. The real reason
was to check on the setting up of two furniture making units in two of the
barns using wood sawn by the saw-mill. Gerald Marcham had taken up Bruce's
suggestion with alacrity and had readily found applicants for the spaces.
Would we check with Mrs Crossley that all was going well and that
electricity had been laid on and the spaces cleared ready for occupation in
February.
No sooner said than done. Francis was over the moon. Going on a
journey with Daddy and Uncle Tony. He packed his Swiss Family Robinson
book as he was going to read that to Finbar. I was afraid Finbar was going
to come in for a lot of extra attention!
Mrs Crossley cried when we arrived. She was really overwhelmed
because she said that Francis looked just like Piers when he was that age.
Miss P said the likeness was uncanny and Francis, on seeing the photos on
the wall and in the frames, kept saying 'Daddy'. Of course, I had to give
Mrs Crossley the latest news - bowdlerised, of course - of the connections
Uncle Johann's friend had found between the family and one of the authors
in my thesis. She went off shaking her head and came back with a small
painting of a young woman's head and shoulders.
"I keep this in my bedroom," she said, " I think it is very beautiful.
Look on the back."
Tony was holding the picture and turned it. On the dark paper
covering the back there was a very small inscription, 'Agnes Le Ferreur'.
It was my how many times great- grandmother! The daughter of my author!!
"It's been in my husband's family for many years and nobody knew who
it was. We thought someone had bought it in France on one of the many
journeys his family seems to have made. It's yours Jacko, please have it."
I shook my head. "It belongs here. Piers was hers as well."
Another abiding memory of that trip was of Francis, sitting
cross-legged on the floor, with Finbar on his haunches, towering above him,
by his side, while Francis read him his most favourite book.
*
New Year 1952
With New Year came the announcement in the Honours List that Uncle
Dick was knighted! Sir Richard Thomson, KBE, for services to the steel
industry. We drank several toasts to him, I must say!
And then, all too soon, I was off, back to Paris. I had, of course,
written to Dr Blake with that latest astounding news. I still had to break
it to the LaRivieres.
Daniel was at Ivry station when I arrived, still feeling queasy after
a very rough channel crossing. On the way to the house I asked if everyone
was home. He nodded. His father took one look at my rather pale green
features and produced 'les fortifiants'. After one swig and coughing my
heart up I felt much better. I said I had news but I'd better unpack some
things first. Ma had sent Madame a beautiful Coalport plate as I knew she
prized such things and as she undid the box I produced the extended family
tree. There was much gesticulation and waving of arms and I was hugged at
least five times by Madame, three times by Monsieur and when Daniel hugged
me I got the benefit of a sturdy 'baguette' pressed against me, too. That
evening's meal was quite alcoholic. I saw Daniel swigging it down
unimpeded by any sanctions from his father. Monsieur was also very pleased
as he had been raised even further in the hierarchy as another French
government had collapsed and they needed some pillars to prevent the whole
edifice from falling.
Daniel crept into my room that night and said how much he had missed
me. Two pillars met and in sequence we gave each other such loving support
the edifice of kinship and friendship was once more secured.
My work and Daniel's studies progressed well that term. We spent most
nights together and made sure the second bed looked as if was slept in. We
loved each other quietly but with fervour. But we also spent two
uninhibited weekends at the flat in Paris. Daniel at eighteen was how I
remembered me, so passionate and ready to make love - not just fuck - and
share his bodily gifts. I said that I hoped he would find a young lady to
share his life and she would have no complaints about her man. He looked
at me and grinned. "That will come, no doubt, but I'm learning how to love
properly, now!" I wondered at his use of 'properly'? He'd said it in
English so I took it at face value.
At the beginning of February we heard that King George VI had died and
Britain had a Queen! Paris was strangely quiet. Many people, recognising
I was British, came up to me in the street or in the library to offer their
sympathy. We may be looked on as Perfidious Albion but under that facade
was a genuine feeling of friendship. Even my librarian shrugged and
flapped his hands and he was the most phlegmatic person I had ever met!
I gave in my final long essays and was given the date for my L es L
viva next term. I completed the spade-work for my thesis and would present
it in June. It would be several months in advance of the usual scheduled
date but I was so happy with my work and found the intense sex life with my
young cousin was a great spur. Daniel said the same and from the high
marks he was awarded at each step of the way he was feeling exactly the
same.
*
Daniel came back with me and stayed for the Easter holidays. We drove
up to Westmorland in Mr Marcham's even newer car to collect Tony. Daniel
was overwhelmed with the kindness of Lord and Lady Harford. He was
overawed with Bruce and overjoyed with Travis, who he found was a possible
Olympic fencer. They spent several hours fencing while Charley took over
as butler. Lord Harford said the rascal had to earn his keep somehow and
as long as he remembered he liked his gin with less tonic he would do quite
well! As Charley was now, more or less, running the estate with Bruce as
his right-hand man, he took all in his good-natured stride.
Back at Kerslake Francis took over Daniel and the pair were just like
big and little brothers, with a smaller James trying to keep up. As Daniel
shared with me they were both in my room every morning until we sent them
to get Uncle Tony up. Poor Tony had a lonely time otherwise.
*
So my last term in Paris started with the feverish revision to do
because I had no idea what I might be asked at the viva. In the end it
wasn't too bad. Two laconic, elderly professors questioned me in French
and English and once I started on my research they kept asking questions
about that. The viva over-ran. I was ushered out and next day I read the
pinned-up notice. I had passed. Cum laude or whatever. Daniel had seen
the notice earlier and had telephoned his mother. Dinner that evening was
at the Tour d'Argent in Paris. I hate to think what it must have cost! My
night with Daniel after was perfect, too. No cost, sheer magnanimity of
love and friendship. The Gallic coq and the English lion were as one.
I did a quick journey back to Cambridge over one weekend with the
typed up submissions for the Fellowship and PhD and gave them to Willy with
a cheque to get the copies bound and given to Dr Blake. I returned to
Paris, as I still had my tutor group there to supervise, and just had to
wait. If I wasn't successful I had no job. I suppose I could learn how to
sell houses!
To be Continued:.......................