Date: Sun, 14 Mar 2004 23:16:36 +0000
From: Jo Vincent <joad130@hotmail.com>
Subject: Aladdin's Awakening: Part 97
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 59
Vignettes from my Life
19. Easter 1968
Anne and I went down for the pre-Easter performance at the ballet school.
Again, we were very impressed. Jody was becoming a star in parts which
needed a certain flair, panache, and, yes, showmanship. Not overdone, but
giving an edge to his dancing. Coming up to seventeen soon he would be in
his last year from September. Stephen was now a suave, very precise young
dancer. In the last few months he had started his growth spurt and was now
about five feet four. The paediatrician who examined the youngsters
regularly said he was right on course for a final reasonable height. He
was also still well-proportioned, not all arms and legs as my lanky two had
been.
Anne had gone to the office at the school to check on anything needed
or any instructions. I went with Stephen to his room and finished his
packing. He was quietly excited about something. He went over and shut
the door.
"Dad, I've got to tell you, I can do it!" He laughed. "I had one of
those wet things soon after I got back after Christmas. James and Khaled
had told me about them and Jody said the same thing had happened to him
when he started. Safar said I had to tell you."
"How did Safar know?" I asked as the boys hadn't seen each other since
Christmas.
He grinned. "I 'phoned him. Didn't he tell you?"
The boys were always answering the 'phone, or were asking if they
could 'phone friends so I hadn't really noticed.
"No, he didn't, I expect he wanted you to tell me your news yourself.
Congratulations, you are really growing up!"
He grinned. "Gosh, I am growing up, aren't I. It's great isn't it?"
"That you can do it, or, how you feel?"
He laughed. "Both! The others said it would be good."
"Is there anything you want to ask about?" I said, just as I had
asked the others.
He smiled. "Safar asked me that and said you would as well. James
and Khaled explained about all sorts of things and Jody's been very
helpful. I don't think there is at the moment."
"Jody's been helpful?"
"Of course, he's my friend. Got to help friends!" He giggled.
"Jody'll be mad I've told you that, but James said you know all about
boys."
"True, I was one myself quite a few years ago!"
"Yes, I know that, but it's that book as well!"
Well, I wasn't surprised Jody and he were wank-buddies. Stephen had
shared his room with James, Safar and Jody who were all, quite obviously,
seasoned masturbators. He must have been so frustrated waiting for it to
happen. But, the book? I expect he and his room-mates at Christmas had
pawed over the last section of the copy which had mysteriously vanished
from my study and appeared there again the evening before the general
departures. At least the pages weren't stuck together!
When we arrived back Khaled and Safar were waiting. I didn't know but
accommodation had been re-arranged again. Stephen was in his usual room
with Safar, and Jody, all smiles, was bunking in with Khaled in Francis's
and his room. Francis would not be seen yet as he was working and staying
with Grunty next door because they were having some exams as soon as term
began. Also, James had decided he would pop up to Chester to stay with
Uncle Edward and Aunt Della for a few days.
*
Of course, things didn't remain quiet when James returned from Chester
on the Tuesday after Easter. More rearrangements. Francis decided too to
return to his room, but brought Grunty as well. Why they couldn't have
stayed next door I never fathomed? 'Change of scene' was the nearest to a
sensible remark I got from Francis. That meant Jody and James went into
the small guestroom leaving Khaled and the two trainee medics together.
Either Jody had given up snoring or James was no longer bothered by it was
also a question unasked and so unanswered. They seemed more than happy to
be in together. Hatching more pranks to play on the unsuspecting populace.
Given that it was holiday time and given that adolescents love their
beds James was not a typical adolescent, late or otherwise. He had always
been an early riser and was always of the opinion that the others were lazy
so-and-sos and would be better off up and getting on with things. The
second day he was home I was up a ladder in the stairwell changing a couple
of light bulbs and trying to work out why one was flickering just on eight
o'clock in the morning. It was rather a delicate balancing job and I'd
just completed getting the ladder into position when I heard James fling
open the door of the room in which the three older lads were sleeping.
From my vantage point I caught a glimpse of him dressed, very simply, in an
old pair of navy blue rugger shorts.
James had a fog-horn voice. "Wakee, wakee, hands off cocks, on socks,
you lazy lubbers!" he bellowed.
We had had words with him about the wake-up call before. He pointed
out when he went sailing with Uncle Flea's and Uncle Georgie's Sea Scouts
they were always woken with that call and it was an old sailors' reveille
call. If it was good enough for the Royal Navy, and if it was good enough
for the Sea Scouts, then....... It was no good arguing with James so,
periodically, as long as Grandma wasn't in residence, he awoke tardy
bedlovers with his bellow.
Someone must have been awake because we heard James's squeal which
always occurred when retribution was meted out by a recipient of one of his
capers.
In fact from the succeeding squeals more than one person had grabbed.
There were two slaps on bare skin from the sound of it.
"Ouch!" James's dignity as well as his backside was hurt. "Give me
back my shorts, Cally! I only came in to wake you up. It's a lovely day.
And that hurt, Francis. I bet I've got hand prints. I'll go and show Mum
and she'll tell you off." James usually razzed his retaliators with
threats to tell his Mummy! This went back years and always invoked further
retribution.
"Shut up, Squirt, or I'll give you something to tell Mum about. I
know, I think I'll practice my first circumcision on you. Hold him still,
Cally, while I find some nail scissors."
This provoked more squeals from James and giggles from Khaled and
Francis.
"And you can have a neat job like Cally's if you like," said Francis
to renewed laughter from the pair, "I can use him as a model!"
"What the hell's going on," came from Grunty. Grunty was a heavy
sleeper and did not like being woken up. "Oh, it's him!"
"Francis is assaulting me!" came James's anguished cry, "And get your
knee out of my face!"
"I've only offered to tidy him up a bit. Most unsightly all that
skin.
And it'll be practice for me, won't it?"
"Talk about yourself then, we're the same," James said in a dismissive
way. "Gosh, Grunty you have got hairy legs! Francis likes
hair...ry....Ow!" Another slap. ".....And what are you doing, Grunty?
That's not nice for a boy your age. I'll tell your mother!"
"Shut up, Squirt!" came Grunty's growl, "I was only scratching
myself."
"Didn't look like that to me from this angle," came incorrigible
James' reply. "You want to be careful or you'll have to wear glasses like
Francis."
Francis's acquisition of reading glasses when seventeen after
complaining of headaches when reading had provoked a deal of mirth at his
expense; from James especially, exclusively referring to certain habits.
"Once Francis has finished with you I think I might perform a double
orchidectomy."
He and Francis laughed.
"What's that?" queried James.
"Dictionaries are not provided. You'd soon find out! Little
Squirt-no-more!" said Grunty.
"Ouch, let go!" squealed James again. "It's not fair, there are three
of you. I'll go and get the others."
"How, brother dear? Little James is going nowhere. OK, Cally, while
I hold him you find his most ticklish points."
"I'll help," said Grunty. "I have a theory that if you tickle someone
enough and they're laughing you wouldn't need an anaesthetic."
"And here's the other one! Grab him, Grunty!" called out Khaled.
Jody had come exploring and his squeals were heard next.
"He's got his pretty panties on," I heard Khaled say. I suspected
these were some dreadful boxer shorts he'd bought in some Oxford Street
tourist trap which depicted a large arrow pointing downwards on the front
and the legend 'In Case of Fire'.
"Get 'em off!" said Grunty and there were more squeals and two more
slaps on bare skin were audible.
"Ow!, what was that for?" came Jody's aggrieved voice.
"For aiding and abetting Bogmop here and for whatever you two are
planning to do next," said Francis. James had been called Bogmop recently
because of an unfortunate visit to a new barber who had massacred his hair
so it stuck out in all directions. "God! You stink, Fuller!"
"Well you have got your nose in his armpit. You're just kinky,
Francis..., Ouch!" Another sharp slap was heard. He wasn't stoppable.
"Hi, Grunts, here's something to tax your little brain. What d'you call a
blonde on a boatie's arm, eh?"
A non-committal grunt from Grunty.
Jody chirped up. "I know! A tattoo!.... And d'you know a hundred
and forty-four boaties are just gross ignorance!....... Ouch!" Another
slap to a boy's muscular bum.
"Give that boy first prize!" chortled James. "And don't do that to
him, Grunty!.... We know you like feeling...... Yowwww! Stop tickling
me, Francis, you've got rough hands. You've got corns on the palms of your
hands and we all know why!"
"Shut up, toad, we haven't finished with the pair of you yet." More
squeals from James and a renewed giggle from Jody. "And from the sight
before my eyes we could get a bit more practice in, eh Grunts?"
"What practice?" panted Jody.
"Snip, snip," went Khaled. What he did I had no idea but there were
renewed squeals, from both this time. I guessed he must have grabbed the
two foreskins and stretched them. "And what's the other one, Grunty?
Orchids something, you said?" Khaled went on.
"Orchidectomy," said Grunty, "Orchis is Greek for this....," There was
a concerted squeak as two handfuls of prime gonads must have been clutched.
"......and 'ectomy' is for cut 'em off. And if you two don't scuttle back
to your horrible smelly little pit and leave us to rest and recuperate
there will extra rations for Old Mog next door." Old Mog, alias
Winterbourn Master, was the most beautiful Siamese cat belonging to the
McIntyres. There were even more squawks as the genitalia must have been
squeezed again. "Go on, scamper off you pesky pair!"
Even though Grunty was smaller in stature than either Jody or extra
lanky James, what Grunty said was law. Or else there would be disorder.
Two scurrying, giggling creatures rushed from the bedroom and a pair of
shorts and a pair of boxers followed them and hit the wall just as I had
found that the second bulb holder was hanging by almost a bare wire. A job
for an electrician. Not even for Luscious Lucius.
"No need to wake the household!" I called out from my position on the
ladder. Two nude creatures came to the top of the stairs and looked
curiously at me. Neither were at all abashed at being bollock naked.
"We've been threatened by the ugly mob," said James. A call of 'We
heard that' came from Francis. "They threatened all sorts of things, Dad,
you ought to go in there and sort them out! Big bullies they are!"
Jody just stood and laughed. He was used to James's pleas for aid
when he'd managed to incite reprisals.
I was used to it too. My six foot two son, standing displaying his
all, was no different to the child of seven pleading that I do something as
Francis was threatening to lock him in the cupboard to stop him pinching
pieces of his jigsaw. "James you are eighteen now, you great baby. Fight
your own battles and go and get washed and dressed the pair of you and I'll
take you to Ely this morning as I've got to take some books over to one of
the canons."
"Can we come?" called out Francis.
"No, you can't, it'll give you and Grunty a chance to do some of that
work you're always talking about. I'll take the other two as well and
Khaled can stay and study in peace."
"Aw, Dad!" came a concerted trio of discontent. Even Grunty called me
that at times!
The last noise had woken the other two, or, at least disturbed them.
Two more nude creatures poked their heads out of their door and then
advanced into the corridor to see what was happening. . From the looks on
their faces there must have been some morning activity going on as two
inquisitive creatures would have been out earlier to see what the rumpus
was about.
"What's going on?" demanded Stephen, "Is it James misbehaving again?"
"What do you think?" I said, folding the ladder. "Where there is
noise James can't be far behind."
"He's got a big behind," came a cackle from the other room.
"True," said Safar stepping round him. "Getting fat. Not enough
exercise."
"Not the right type!" came the voice again.
"Shut up, Francis!" said James, "And as for you...," he made a grab
for Safar who scuttled past him into their bedroom. He went to follow him
but his way was blocked by the smaller figure of Stephen.
"Wher're ya going to, big boy?" he said, in a not very passable
American accent. "I'm a'hoping ya ain't 'ntending ta hurt that li'l
critter, 'cos ya'll hev me and my sidekick Safar the Terrible to contend
with?" Stephen put up two fists and assumed a boxer's stance. "Yeah, big
boy, ya've got the double S ranch to deal with. So one step forward and
ya'll hev the double S brand on your fat backside."
Safar had reappeared. "Who's calling me a little critter?"
"He is, Midge!" James called out over Stephen's shoulder, "Little Big
Slug here. Call him off before I get my Dad after him!"
"No way," I said from the stairwell. "You've disturbed everyone with
your noise, James. You're the one who needs to be dealt with!"
That was the signal for a flurry of activity. James was on his back
in seconds, squealing again, with Stephen lying on top of him. Safar,
aided by an apostate Jody, was nipping at various bits of exposed anatomy.
A moment later three other equally nude figures from the other room joined
in and James was lifted bodily and carried, screeching, into the bedroom
where, from the sounds of it, he was given summary punishment in a most
enjoyable way as there were howls of laughter all round and giggles and
bouts of silence punctuated by more laughter and giggling. I took the
ladder downstairs and put it in the garage thinking one could imagine a
modern version of the 'secret' book as no doubt those seven would not be
averse to adventures in a castle.
Still, four clean, washed and smartly dressed lads were ready by ten
o'clock. Stephen and Jody had done their class while the others were in
the bathroom using all the hot water so there were complaints that their
shower was lukewarm. My remark that I didn't want him in the car with
smelly armpits had Jody on his back over the kitchen table being sniffed by
Stephen and James. Both pronounced him wholesome and so we set off.
Ely always reminded me of Kerslake, a small city dominated by a huge
medieval cathedral. I went off to the canon's house and the boys took Jody
up the tower to the lantern. The others had all been up before but were
always fascinated by the view; flatness with farms, villages and water for
miles around. When I got away from a very learned discourse on Madame
Recamier and her relationship with Madame de Stael we wandered down to the
river and had a snack at a pub there. A beautiful, quiet English country
day.
*
Khaled was really working hard. He had decided he wanted to do a
degree in Economics with French as a subsidiary. His first choice would
have been the London School of Economics. This was sadly vetoed by this
father and advisers because it was thought to be too much of a hotbed of
politics and student unrest and he would need to be shadowed all the time.
I had a word with a couple of friendly dons at Trinity and he had been
offered a place there. There were the usual provisos of interview, test
and suitable results at A levels. He was doing Economics, French and
Geography for his entrance and I'd been coaching him in French and, I will
say, he was very fluent and had read the texts with good understanding. We
chatted together in French at every opportunity so I got to know all sorts
of things he was thinking about.
We were sitting in my study one afternoon drinking tea and just
talking, as much as possible, in French. He was in a loquacious mood and
thoughts and worries and all manner of things came tumbling out.
He said he'd talked to his father and said he knew he'd be happy
enough if he didn't go back to his country. But, he was coming up to
eighteen and there were pressures for him to marry and produce his own
heir. He said the custom was really an arranged marriage. Some girl from
a suitable family would be chosen. He wouldn't see her until his wedding
night. He grinned and said the deed had to be done and as long as there
was a male outcome he needn't see her again and he could marry up to four
wives as his grandfather and his uncles had.
He said his father had only married once and he and Safar had been
taken from their mother's care once they were five and they had lived then
with two cousins of about the same age. They were then taught by tutors
until the plans were made for them to come to England. I asked about his
mother. He said he didn't really remember her. All he knew was that Anne
had become his mother and that had made him very happy.
We discussed the possibility he would be almost forced into the
marriage. I suggested he talked to his father and if it was so why not
have everything done in London. I knew the Embassy had flats in St John's
Wood as I'd visited Sayed there on a couple of occasions. "No love
involved," he said, "Just procreation! And it will be next year, no
doubt."
On another occasion we talked about the family. I knew how close he
was to both my sons and had also accepted Stephen as a brother. Now there
was Jody, and the contemplative Khaled and the effervescent Jody had gelled
straight away. There was something so strong and solid about Khaled, I
could see so much of his father in him. A boy who could be playful and
mischievous with the best of them, but under that a great strength of
character. I said I was thankful he was around when James had his lapse of
judgment.
"I love James as my brother," he said, "I couldn't see him get into
such trouble. I might be younger but we know each other so well. I can
tell you this because I know you'll understand. James was so hurt because
that Angie called him 'Ten-second Thomson' and told the other boys that,
and that he might be well-hung but he was no good at using it. Of course,
he got every one telling him and twitting him about his new nick-name,
especially that Dirk." He laughed. "Dirty Dirk we called him as everyone
believed his tales about getting it off with every girl he went out with.
It's true. He never." He shook his head. "I told you I like his brother
and we work together well, and he told me the truth. That's why I was so
upset with James. He was set up." He looked at me earnestly. "You don't
mind me telling you about it?" I said whatever he wanted to tell me was
OK. "That woman. I knew she was a slag and I knew James did as well.
She's got a reputation." He shook his head. The memory was obviously
painful both for himself and his concern for James. "She called me a
fucking little black bastard." He shook his head. "Nobody's ever called
me anything like that. So that's why I was extra angry, not with James,
but with someone like that." He waited a moment. I didn't say anything.
"I would have hit him if you hadn't have come along, and I would have
regretted it for the rest of my life!" He shook his head again.
"Two hot-blooded young males," I said, "One cut off from his intended
rut and the other seeing his great friend about to make an awful mistake.
But you resolved it."
He smiled. "Yes. In the best possible way. I love my brother James
even more since then. And thanks for appearing when you did!"
I said that was accidental, all due to a cancelled meeting. He
grinned and said "Fate!"
I went on, "But, you seem to have come through your adolescence
unscathed."
He shook his head. "Only because Francis and Grunty took me in hand."
He giggled. "Not always like that. No. I had a few fights at school
because of my skin colour, and my looks and because I wasn't very big."
I looked at Khaled. I had never thought of him as other than looking
a bit sun-burnt but he had those Arabian aquiline features, a rather
imperious nose and high cheekbones. He had a really beautiful face and
large brown eyes which, once he knew you, were full of friendliness. But I
could see that pale-faced boys with small minds and nondescript features
would see him as different.
"I've got to confess. Francis intercepted a couple of notes to you
from Housey- Housey saying I was being reprimanded for fighting."
Housey-Housey was the very suitably named, Mr Barrington-House, the
boys' Housemaster at the school.
"So your black eye that time was not due to over-enthusiastic
tackling, then?"
He made a moue and shook his head. "But I won, not like James!"
I laughed. "And what about Safar?" I asked.
"No problems. He's got two very good friends who'd make sure no one
ever says anything to him. Anyway, they all know I'm his brother and with
me being in the First XV now no one would dare tangle with us."
"I worry sometime about Safar," I said, "He's so gentle."
Khaled laughed out loud. "You don't know him then. He's quite
fearless when he's playing and I wouldn't like his clutching hands tackling
me when he's roused."
I laughed too, remembering the squealing Giovanni in the pool with
Safar grabbing his balls. But that was just boyish fun. I told Khaled what
I'd noted.
"That was play. You should have seen him after his pal Martin got
booted in one of the inter-House matches. He told me that in one of the
mauls he got his hand up this other lad's shorts and pinched the top of his
leg really hard." He shook his head. "Il n'est pince pas ses couilles."
He didn't squeeze his balls. "But he knew it would hurt!"
Khaled achieved the usual ten O levels all at the top grade. Like the
others he disappeared into his college only to emerge during vacations as
far as we were concerned
*
The hiring out of Ulvescott Manor was most successful. Jem and Sam
arranged all the catering and the hiring of staff. The kitchen was
re-ordered and updated and good English food was produced. The boys went
and helped out too. For them, the two bedrooms were unlocked. Francis was
there with Grunty the first night, acting as waiters in dinner jackets and
bow ties. Jem was in full college butler's dress with Davy as assistant in
striped waistcoat and apron. Candelabra and crystal on the long table
which seated the lot. Francis said the Americans were open-mouthed as they
entered the dining-room to be confronted with such a set up.
20. 1969
At the end of January Lachs came for a couple of days rest and
recuperation. He said the aftermath of all the student demonstrations and
the contacts the ringleaders had with various very radical and anarchist
groups on the continent meant he was working flat out. We'd had more than
a few contretemps and sit-ins in Cambridge and as for the London School of
Economics that was completely shut down at the moment. I said I thought
the only thing to do was just to carry on as normally as possible. Lachs
laughed and said he thought things might escalate a bit more before
anything like normality returned.
I found he'd been seconded to the Anti-terrorism Branch and he was
contemplating moving into that permanently as he would be at the equivalent
rank of Lieutenant-Colonel. Cartwright had recommended he did this and he
would know by Easter. He also said that Sayed was becoming the Ambassador
for his country from the middle of February. I asked how it would affect
the lads. He said both could continue as they were. There might have to
be a bit more security at times but their intelligence was that really no
one knew or cared where the boys were now. The only fly in the ointment
was, as it were, the insistence of part of Sayed's family that Khaled
should marry. I said Khaled had realised this was a duty but he wasn't
happy about it. He grinned. "Look at me!"
Jody was nearing the end of his training as he was coming up to his
eighteenth birthday. He had been highly recommended to a London ballet
company and the representatives, when they saw him give a demonstration and
then do an incredibly difficult dance from a Russian ballet, offered him an
immediate job. He moved into the flat with Ma and Pa after Easter. She
then had plenty of free tickets to the ballet. I said that after 'Murder
at the Adelphi' we could expect 'Battered Ballet Boys' as her next novel.
She just said that if I paid a little more attention to detail I might have
spotted that when my author wrote 'ansa' he probably meant 'hansart' as it
would sound the same, so my guess at 'handle' (anse) was clever but it was
really 'cleaver' which was more appropriate for Will the butcher.
Ma! You don't improve! Thank you! If ever it goes to a second edition
I would have to thank my mother for drawing my attention to the euphemistic
'cleaver' referring to Will's substantial prick!
So: Extract from a possible Second Edition!:
'......Will finding a stain upon the shirt he was to wear that eve and
the lazy serf who laid his clothing from the press upon his bed had gone he
called to lusty Robin whose spacious room was next to his. For your good
friend's sake have you a shirt I could wear at table this night. Jacob has
gone and he does not answer my shouts. He has taken all for washing and
has left me with one so stained Milord would chastise me for being
slovenly. Robin said gladly there is a fine cambric here fit for St John
himself.* Will hurried in wearing but his long hose. Robin spying that he
was excited laughed. I would hold that [handle**] I perceive. Would that
I could rouse my serpent with such ease. Looking at his friend in puris
naturabilis*** Will shakes his head. Your serpent sleeps little said the
wanton rogue and with Allan's pipe I could awake it as did the swarthy
Indies man at the summer fair with his strange discordant sounds luring
that forked tongued beast. But see it stirs as I whistle and seeks the air
and a sturdy grip about its neck. I would gladly it rouse and see it spit
as did that monstrous cobra's head for we have time enough to pleasure both
before....'
Footnotes: * The text has 'batiste' (cambric) and the reference is
taken to be to the 'Baptiste'. ** A reading of 'anse' (handle) has been
assumed for the textual 'ansa'. However I am indebted to Lady Jeanette
Thomson, aka J T Fountain (for the benefit of her myriad fans), for the
suggestion that J-A L, her four times great-grandfather, may have meant
'hansart', a butcher's cleaver, which would fit the context admirably. A
modern reading of 'hansart' could be 'chopper' which is a term commonly
used by schoolboys to refer to their, or a friend's, penis, especially when
of a goodly size. *** naked
So lives the life of an academic! And humble with it!!
21. Easter 1969
I had a pleasant duty to perform just before Easter. I had to go to
Birmingham to be external examiner for a PhD candidate. I'd arranged to
stay a couple of nights with my cousin Alun and his wife Gwen, who lived on
the outskirts of the city. As it was the beginning of the Easter holiday I
had suggested their son, Simon, now aged about fifteen and a half, could
come back with me for a stay and meet up with the boys again. No bother,
as I was driving up and his parents could come for a weekend stay later to
collect him. They had been rather infrequent visitors and I hadn't seen
them for about a year. Alun was very busy anyway, a senior manager now and
tied up a lot of the time with labour problems. Gwen was also busy as
senior science mistress in a girl's grammar school.
I arrived the first night early evening, just in time for a very nice
meal. Alun always complimented Gwen's cooking saying it was always good as
she taught chemistry, and cooking was only practical chemistry! In fact,
as soon as I'd unpacked I was called down to the dining room. And there
was Simon. The long-haired ungainly six-footer who merely grunted a
greeting was quite different from the rather sweet-natured twelve-year-old
or the growing fourteen-year-old of previous acquaintance. Not only did he
grunt but he also had the bane of adolescence. Like his Uncle Rhys at a
later age he had the most unsightly crop of spots which must have added to
his uncouthness at meeting his dad's cousin again. He was certainly well
ahead in growth than I remembered myself or my cousins at his age.
Monosyllabic grunts for more accompanied the lightning demolition of
three platefuls of rather good roast lamb, roast spuds and other veggies,
which he drowned in copious amounts of the very tasty gravy. Alun looked
at me as forkfull after forkfull disappeared down Simon's gullet. All
right, Alun, I know I was Gannet Number One in your book when I was that
age but that's your son! Another member of the family with a healthy
appetite!
When it was indicated he might help by carrying out a few dishes there
were more grunts, sadly reminiscent of the times I'd grunted, actually
silently, when asked to do things at the same age. I tried a few
questions. Nothing about school as I knew that was anathema to ask about
such mundane things. My own had never come out with anything other than
'OK', or a sneer when asked about progress. I found his interests were
centred on 'music' which I discerned, and heard in volume later, were
entirely based on the decibel-rich outpourings of one particular pop group
called the Rolling Stones. When I said I thought they were old hat having
been around for years I got a series of grunts which I interpreted as
meaning something on the lines that I was an old fart who didn't
understand.
Luckily, my lot seemed to have some discernment and seemed not to go
for the over noisy, cacophonous row I'd heard when some of their friends
brought records over. Luckily, also, he sloped off to his room as Gwen,
Alun and I settled down for a post-prandial drink and a chat. Unluckily,
he decided to give us a full-scale rendition of something Alun referred to
as 'Bugger's Basket'. Gwen told him to behave himself, no wonder his son
was going through adolescent trauma. Alun then said he just wondered how I
coped with that houseful I had. I said as long as you threw them
sufficient food at frequent intervals and put up with unwashed hands at the
dinner table one coped. Gwen laughed and said she knew exactly what I
meant but one was enough for her especially with his habits.
The next day the viva went well. Miss O'Hara was a red-haired,
vivacious young lady who had just done two years at Lyon University writing
up a very detailed exposition on her chosen subject. Two hours later Dr
O'Hara left the room looking very pleased with herself. I stayed and
chatted with her supervisor and the internal examiner who was my old
undergraduate buddy, Francis Thornley. So, I was in a happy mood when I
returned to Alun and Gwen's.
Unfortunately, Grunter, as I had mentally labelled him was already
home as it was the last day of school before the holidays. Grunter, not
Grunty, who was as different from him as chalk and cheese. He did let me
in. I went through to the kitchen. There was an open packet of biscuits
which he had been munching his way through.
"Any tea?" I asked.
"'pose so," came an almost inaudible murmur.
I went over and filled the electric kettle and switched it on. He
stared and munched a biscuit.
"Tea?" I asked.
He pointed to a cupboard where I found a box of teabags. I saw a
teapot, held a bag up indicating did he want some. He nodded. I made tea
and poured two cups.
I'd found the milk in the fridge, meanwhile. And, meanwhile, he watched
and munched.
"Are the biscuits nice?" I asked.
"'pose so,"
I walked over and picked up the almost depleted packet of chocolate
digestives.
"My favourites," I said and took two. He gave me a look as if I was
stealing food from a starving child. I deliberately put the packet down
near me. The silent battle continued.
"More tea?" I asked.
An impassive face. I waited for the "'pose so" but got a grunted
"Please" instead. At least it still had some manners left over from
prepubescence. I poured him a second cup. "Biscuit?" I asked. "Please."
I passed him the packet. I wondered if I should try an operant
conditioning experiment a la B F Skinner which students at various times
had explained to me who were doing joint degrees with psychology. They had
assured me their theories and methods were universal so what they did with
their rats could be applied just as well to getting-on-for-sixteen
year-olds with acned visages as long as they were starved and then fed as a
reward for producing the wanted response. I sighed inwardly. I doubted if
I had enough time, or biscuits, to couth the uncouthful.
I think my incitement of Simon to a modicum of civility must have
exhausted any tiny reservoir of refinement which still remained from
previous years. He virtually snarled his way through dinner that evening.
Alun, unfortunately, had an urgent 'phone call and had to rush off to sort
out some Union bother leaving Gwen, me and the Grunter to our own devices.
I was sitting in the drawing room scribbling a few notes to tidy up
for my report on the viva and then had a look at the Guardian crossword. I
could hear Simon giving Gwen grief in the kitchen. He was in a very bad
temper over something. Probably because I'd had two of his lovely bikkies
and he'd had to say 'please'. Gwen was too even-tempered to give in and
knew the wiles of adolescents from her experience with girls with their
moans and groans. In the end Simon came heavy-footed into the drawing
room, switched on the television and lumped down on the sofa next to me. I
was in for some kind of punishment. He couldn't sit still and then he
started zapping the channels with the remote control. After twenty seconds
of each about four times round I leaned towards him.
"Must be difficult being as big as you are, spots and all, and you're
not even sixteen," I said very quietly and confidentially fairly close to
his right ear, "But all boys are the same. I was, your dad was, and my lot
are grief all the time." I paused a moment to let it sink in. "I know.
Why don't you just pop upstairs, have a nice wank, relax, and then come
down with a smile on your face."
He went rigid. He blushed. He stood up, dropping the remote control,
and hurtled out and up the stairs. I switched the telly off. Gwen came
through about five minutes later.
"My, it's gone quiet," she said. It had. No telly and, definitely,
no Beggar's Basket or Jumpin' Jack Flash, other than Simon's emulation of
the latter as he leapt up the stairs. "Did you say something to him?"
I nodded. "Nothing too awful. We'll just have to see what he's like
in the morning."
"Thank God someone else has had a go. He ignores Alun. I can cope.
A class of stroppy girls are twenty times worse than my little Simon! And
you've coped, too!"
In the morning Simon was waiting for me with his backpack as I came
downstairs.
"May I put this in the car, please?" came a pleasant adolescent
baritone.
"And then, after breakfast we'll set off, eh?"
"Yes, please."
The previous evening's conversation wasn't mentioned on the ride to
Cambridge. I heard, with no prompting, that he was very interested in
conservation and intended to become a biologist and wanted to do research
on endangered species. I don't think even Gwen and Alun knew that.
Anne had arranged for him to be in with Stephen and Safar and after
I'd told her about the little altercation she said it would be interesting
to hear sometime how they got on with him. Things went well from the
beginning. They knew he was a chess fiend from previous visits and as both
loved playing the three were constantly having tournaments or solving chess
problems in the bedroom. As the double bed was the only one slept in I
expect other tournaments were played. Confucius he say, boys with problems
on mind wake up with solutions on chest.
*
About ten minutes after Alun and Gwen had departed with Simon after
his and their stay I was in my study hunting for a couple of students'
essays I had mislaid under the usual pile of paperwork.
"Are you busy, Dad?" came Stephen's voice at the door.
"No, just putting the world to rights, as usual," I said, "Come in."
Stephen and Safar came in with grins on their faces and Safar, as
usual, giggling.
Stephen shut the door carefully. Always a prelude to a confidential
chat.
"Can we ask you something, Dad?" said Stephen.
Safar stepped forward. Down to earth, straightforward Safar.
"Did you really tell Simon he should go upstairs and have..," his
straightforwardness evaporated. "....you know.., do it and come down with
a smile on his face?"
"Of course. Why not? You smile enough most of the time."
Stephen sniggered and poked a slightly duskier Safar in the side.
"Told you he did." He looked at me. "He said he didn't know how you
knew.., ....you know, that he did it. He said he wondered if his mum had
told you because she caught him in the bathroom about a week before, then
he accused us of telling you 'cause he was here a year ago. But no-one
here told you, did they?"
"I think you've done a James," I said laughing.
Stephen realised that cat was out of the bag. He wasn't concerned.
He knew I knew the lot of them at least wanked themselves and each other.
So whatever they'd done with Simon was commonplace. He was a
fourteen-year-old then and fourteen-year-olds wank and like to be wanked.
Common knowledge!
"No, I knew nothing. You never told me and his mother didn't, though
she did hint at habits, but that was after he disappeared upstairs. Went
like a rocket!"
"He does, too," mused Safar, then realised what he'd said and went
slightly more dusky.
"Went upstairs, you fool," said Stephen, laughing. He turned back to
me. "Thanks, Dad, for telling us. Actually, he said it was a good thing
you said it as he was worried about coming here again and what you said
meant you knew about boys." He sniggered. "Safar showed him that book."
One copy of 'That book' was in the habit of disappearing from my
study.
"Sneak!" said Safar, "You kept telling him about it. I only said it
was on the bookshelf."
"So you've got a copy in your room?"
They both looked rather sheepish. "You did get six spare copies from
Kanga so we just borrowed one," said Stephen, "And Francis has explained
all that stuff about free-will to us."
"And James?"
They both snickered. "The rest," said Safar. They turned and went
from the room laughing.
22. September 1969+
Safar was now safely in the Sixth Form. He beat cleverclogs James as
he took twelve O levels and got As in all as one of the youngest in his
class. He said his favourite was the extra subject, Music, and he was
doing this with French and History for A levels. 'Keep it in the family'
was his motto.
Of course, I had reached a milestone. On September the thirtieth I
was forty. I sat and contemplated my life so far. It had been full of
experiences. Rich, rewarding experiences as well as sad ones. But the
happy ones really outweighed any others. I had lost my first wife and
great friend to a cruel accident. But, I had two wonderful sons, as long
as I never told them or their heads might swell. The support Ma, Pa, and
Helen and Gerald Marcham had given was immeasurable. I could never have
survived those early years without their help, guidance and generosity. I
had many good friends. From early days there was Tony, Matt and Tom, Nobbo
and Cleggy. There was Mike in Rome, now a Monsignor himself. My 'gret
dark cousins', my French and Swiss cousins and the golden pair Lachs and
Flea. There were my Uncles and Aunts and that seemingly unceasing ancestry
and its many branches.
I'd had the honour of being the student and friend of a great scholar.
I'd had luck in my own scholarship and was now a Fellow of my college. My
adopted son, Stephen, was a great joy and those other surrogate sons,
Khaled, Safar and Jody had made us a real family. Sayed was a friend too.
I treasured his sons as I treasured his friendship.
Anne was a wonderful companion and family life revolved round her. There
were so many others in college, academic colleagues and those other such
good friends like Willy and Maggy Roberts, Jem, Sam, Davy, Lucius..... The
numbers just went on because there were those at Garforth, and those who
had welcomed me to Ulvescott but were sadly gone. Ulvescott, now a place I
had joint responsibility for. And that presence there, so real for so many
of us in turn, of that loving spirit whose own life never reached
fulfilment.
I was sitting in the garden early that morning contemplating all this
when Francis and James came along with two wrapped presents. There was a
magnum of champagne and an early French psalter which I had seen in a
bookshop in St Edmund's Passage. It had cost a bomb. The boys said it was
from everyone with their love. The card with it was signed by many of the
people I had been thinking about. Safar and Khaled came along and said how
happy they were to be in the family and handed me a card from Stephen and
Jody.
We had a quiet dinner party that night - with the magnum of champagne
- and it was arranged that we would have a super party at Christmas when
everyone could be present.
*
Francis and Grunty had successfully passed all their exams so far and
had been awarded BAs and were now set to go into their fourth year when
their clinical work would start in earnest. Both had decided to stay in
Cambridge to finish their training. In fact, they announced they would be
moving out of college and taking rooms in Tony's house. He had just
finished a year as Visiting Fellow in Creative Writing at one of the newer
universities and had almost finished off his 'growing-up' book. In between
he'd polished off a very funny and graphic account of life in Hollywood
which would be out for Christmas as well as writing a couple of scripts for
television plays. Both of these last two commissioned by the
well-established production team of Clarke and Smollett.
Then, Tony and Francis came to see Anne and me one evening early in
the term. We had a meal and Safar disappeared to his room to study. Tony
was soon wreathed in smoke and I, being a perfect host, produced the
brandy. I saw Tony look at Francis.
"Dad and Mum," Francis began, "I've got something to tell you. I'll
come straight to the point. You know I am going to live at Tony's.
Actually I want to live with Tony. We love each other and I know he's
nineteen years older than I am but I don't care. I've loved Uncle Tony for
as long as I have known him. I knew I loved Tony as a man when I really
knew I could only love a man. He's my man." He looked at us. "Dad. Mum.
May I have your blessing?"
We both looked at Tony. This was something I had the feeling might
happen. But the age difference? Tony had been my lover. I loved Tony as
one man loves another. Now my eldest son was professing his love for Tony
as well. Was Francis seeking another father? Was this a form of incest,
or even displaced incest? Had they already consummated that love? Tony
was Francis's biological uncle in any case. I knew Anne must be thinking
along the same lines.
He looked very serious as he spoke. "Anne, Jacko, I ask you humbly to
give your blessing. This is not something sudden. We have talked together
and discussed everything possible for the past three years. I know you
both have probably suspected that Francis and I want to be more than
friends. I love your son deeply. Jacko, all those years ago I confessed I
could have fallen in love with your cousin Johann, since then I have had a
picture in my mind of my ideal companion. That picture is Francis."
He turned to Francis sitting next to him on the sofa and took his
hand.
"I pledge my love for you, Francis, outwardly and openly. Would you
be my companion for life if we have your parents' blessing?"
Francis leaned over and kissed his cheek. I looked at Anne. We both
stood and linking hands we knelt in front of the pair.
"You have my blessing," I said.
"And mine," Anne added.
A scurrying figure hurried into the room. "And mine too!" said Safar,
"And I can tell you something it's about time. We've all been waiting ages
for one of you to pop the question!"
A rather startled Francis looked at him. "What on earth do you mean,
Midge?"
"Oh, come off it," Safar said, laughing, "It's been so obvious for
yonks that you two are made for each other." He knelt down too and put a
hand on Tony's. "We all love you but Francis is the one for you. Just
wait until I tell the others!"
There was little Anne or I could say. She and Safar went off to
'phone the others or leave messages for them to 'phone back. I sat and
looked at the pair smiling at each other sitting closely side by side.
Tony looked at me. "You look a little stunned, Jacko, but you have
that smile on your face as well. I promise I will look after your son. He
will be loved and cherished for ever and ever. We needed your blessing as
we haven't taken that final step." He turned to Francis. "You know I love
your father, but he was not my first lover. Your mother's friend who was
killed with her was my first. I may have had many experiences but I can
truly say that the only ones I have really loved were Roo, Matt, dear Tom
and your father. I want that love to be for us now. It will be."
Francis smiled. "I have pledged my love with my brother, with Grunty,
with Khaled, with my cousin Brad and my lovely Italian friends, Silvio and
Bruno. As I have told you I am not inexperienced but I want our love even
to transcend that. It will."
"You both have my blessing for ever and ever," I said, "Francis is
twenty-one. He is free. Don't be long."
They smiled at each other and then at me.
*
Although there was a general rule that we didn't want to see any of
the perishers during term-time there were always emergencies. Or what
passed as emergencies as far as they were concerned. Grunty came round one
Saturday afternoon after visiting his parents next door. He was limping
having been kicked viciously, so he said, by some opposing team member in
the game that afternoon. He had been to see his mother to see if she had
some magic potion to rub in to relieve the pain. From the smell which
preceded him it seemed like the old favourite, Sloan's Liniment. I knew
Francis had accompanied him. Mainly to dump the load of dirty rugger kit
in the washer without father knowing. Unfortunately Francis was in the
utility room and he had to shout to get his Mum to hear as she was in the
kitchen. >From the conversation I knew Francis was harassing Anne trying
to wheedle her into baking a cake for Tiger's birthday the next week as his
mother said she wasn't that good a cook. I was in the garden in front of
the utility room, just thinking. I greeted Grunty and he explained the
purpose of his visit next door but I realised something was bugging Grunty.
When Grunty was bugged he was very formal.
"Dr Thomson," he began again, he was certainly bugged! He had
reluctantly started to call me Jacko recently, but usually it was Dad, or
Dad Two. "You don't mind do you but I want to ask you something?" Usually
when the boys used that tactic it was generally money they were after,
James being the past-master with that ploy. But, No, not with Grunty. I
waited. "Well," he went on, slightly hesitantly, "James told us you'd said
your friends did other measurements. May I ask you what they were?"
I smiled. The medical researcher was asking, very formally.
"Actually, one was measuring and the other was observing," I said. He
cocked his head attentively. "Yes, amount of output and observing
motility."
His lop-sided grin was there. "Tried the first. Only three of us
though and the same with peering down a microscope. Didn't dare extend to
others." He looked thoughtful. "How many?"
I said I thought there were about ten in the output sample, at least
there were when I checked the arithmetic. I said I didn't know about the
other but I had heard there was quite a queue of interested participants.
I said Cleggy and Nobbo were very popular.
*
On the following Tuesday a very happy Grunty came rushing up the
stairs to my study. "Come in," I said, "What have you got there? Not
another emergency?"
He was almost waving a couple of sheets of photo-copied print. "No!
It's important though! Found this. Is this them?"
I took the two pages. It was a research note published in a medical
journal some years previously. I looked at the names, Anthony Arthur
Clarke and George Padmore Clegg, nicely alphabetically ordered I thought.
"That's them," I said, then read the title of the research note.
'Measurement of Output of Semen of Adolescent British Boys'. I goggled. I
read the summary at the head of the paper:
'A sample of 30 adolescent boys, aged between 14 years 6 months and 16
years 3 months each provided between eight and ten measured ejaculates.
Each was required to provide the single ejaculate in any twenty-four hour
period. The mean of the 281 ejaculates was 3.55ccs, median 3.5ccs and mode
of 3.4ccs, with a range of 4.3ccs and a variance of 0.549ccs. Further
analyses are discussed within the article.'
I looked at Grunty who was almost hopping up and down. "I only knew
of ten," I said, "I know that because I checked the figures for them. I
didn't know about medians and variances then!"
"So you don't know you're famous, then?" His grin nearly split his
face. I looked down the page to the body of the article. The first bit
was dealing with the sample, 'boys from a Grammar School volunteered to
take part', then there was the method of collection which I remembered very
well, having sorted it out for them. Grunty was getting impatient.
"Well what is it?" I asked.
"Have a look," he said, jabbing a stubby finger at the second page.
"There was some boy who skewed the results." He looked at me and couldn't
contain himself, he just shook his head and laughed. "You see in lots of
articles in medical journals they give the initials of the person, Patient
AB or whatever. Look here," he pointed again and, as he read it out, I
read the print. "'However, if subject JT who consistently produced the
most ejaculate, on average 6.3ccs, range 5.8 - 7.3 ccs, is eliminated from
the calculations then the average for the 29 subjects is 3.45ccs, median
3.25ccs and a variance of 0.29ccs. The overall range falls to 3 ccs. This
subject produced, on average, 3.15 times more than the lowest average (CD:
2.0ccs). Both boys were within two weeks in age at the time.'" He looked
at me. "Were you JT?"
I scanned the rest of the article. Four other sets of initials
appeared with various comments as well as JT and CD. RB, TB, PM and PF. I
did a quick think. RB, must be Rupert Barnes, Roo who was killed in the
car with the lads' mother. TB, could only be Tom, now a Chief Inspector of
Police! So PF, yes, Pete Fry. I'd lost touch with him. There was no CD
in our form so if he was two weeks difference in age from me he must have
been in the form below when I was in the collection process and so they
must have got him as a participant later when he was in the Fifth Form and
they were First Year Sixth. So the collection had gone on! CD? Yeah!
Christopher Dickens, I bet and his pal Paul Marsh in the other parallel
form was PM. Chris, I think was now an accountant in Kerslake and I would
have to find out about Paul.
I had to confess. I nodded. "I most certainly am! Oh, my God!!"
Grunty was laughing merrily. "Something else that runs in the
family!"
He did a James and clapped his hand to his mouth. "Ow, cat out of the
bag! Stand in the corner, Grunty!"
We both laughed. Excited boys always told the truth! "Doesn't
surprise me," I said, "I've had to change their sheets many times!" We
laughed again. "Does Francis know about the article?" I asked.
"Yep, Dad," came a voice from just outside my study, "What it is to
have a famous father!"
"Come in here!" I said with mock sternness, "You're not supposed to be
here and if this gets out...."
"...You'll be the toast of the Senior Common Room," said Francis,
loping in with a grin on his face, too. "What with the 'secret book' and
now this, your reputation's made! They'll make you Vice-Chancellor next!
Emphasis on the Vice!"
"And you'd be cut off with a shilling in my Will if you spread any
gossip. Anyway, Grunty's blabbed about you and I suppose the other
urchin." I turned to Grunty. "I need to know figures!"
Grunty pulled out a folded sheet of paper from his jeans pocket.
Francis made a grab for it but Grunty fended him off. "I know it by
heart," he laughed, "Subject FT, age 16 years 1 month: total ejaculations
7, average 6.1 millilitres and Subject JT, age 15 years: 15 ejaculations,
average 6.05 millilitres."
He handed me the paper and it was very neatly laid out. It was
Francis's turn to hop up and down as I held the paper away from him. It
was my turn to laugh.
"No stamina, Francis? Seven against fifteen for your brother? Uhn,
and GG, age 16 years 4 months, 12, average 4.8ml. Well, well, well! Much
above the group average the lot of you! Statistically significant, eh?"
"Dad!" came the usual response. Francis laughed. "But I beat him.
He tried to see if he could, but not quite! And we're perfectly level
pegging on something else. He either stopped growing, or I just caught up!
That didn't please him either." He looked at me and almost whispered, "I
told you he was a little Newark! And now you know why we call him Squirt!
And as for Grunty!" That was much louder.
Grunty took a friendly swipe at him and both burst out laughing again.
I folded the paper and put it in the top drawer of my desk, turned the key
and withdrew it. I held the key up. "Any statements from that other
source and that will be revealed in its entirety...." I paused. "....But
I did beat the lot of you!"
"Dad!"
*
The celebrations at Christmas were stupendous. We had more than a
houseful it seemed. I think we managed to seat twenty for Christmas lunch
and scattered them around for sleeping. Then, on Boxing Day, Tony and
Francis had an 'At Home' and their house was flooded with well-wishers.
And Grunty was there with his fiancee!
Not only was Grunty being congratulated but what I didn't know was
that there was also to be a surprise party for my fortieth birthday which I
had thought of as long gone. What a surprise!
We'd been to the 'At Home' drinks at midday and had left before three
with the injunction to reappear for proper food - a dinner - at seven
thirty. Anne had sensibly arranged for us to be transported to and from
the dinner by taxi. At seven twenty it arrived and Anne and I got in but
there was no sign of any of the boys. We assumed they would find their own
way there. Tony and Francis's house had a very imposing front door and as
the taxi drew up it was flung open and Jem in full fig as a college butler
welcomed us in. In the wide hall was a banner which read 'HAPPY 40TH' and
in a row up the staircase were nine familiar figures, actually ten. From
the accoutrements they were carrying I knew they were the nine characters
from 'Audace' - the tenth was the witch-like figure of Madame Hairy- Twat
herself, lank black hair, blackened teeth and clad in a black dress and
black and white hat, a great bunch of keys on a chain round her waist and a
long wooden staff. A real fright!
As we came in and Willy and Davy stepped forward and took our coats
and scarves the first figure stepped down. It was John the Blacksmith,
alias Francis. He was wearing a very posh doublet and hose in a rich dark
red and carrying a large hammer. He bowed low.
"Milord, your vassals await. To entertain is our delight but within
the covers of a book we do cavort. This night our capers will be more
circumspect but each will offer a greeting meet for thee. Step forward
Will and show thyself!"
Tiger stepped down and cast away a seemingly blood stained cloak from
his own patterned doublet and held up a large cleaver, no doubt borrowed
from Sam's kitchen. "Good Sir, I'm Will the butcher's lad. I wish thee
well and truth to tell thou measureth with the best!"
There was a howl of laughter and the next one stepped down. It was
Jody as Neptune the fisherboy. He had on a light-blue tunic embroidered
with goldfish and carried a net. "'Tis Neptune here, a strange young lad
who dances for thy joy. When I was young and very lost, you found a
grateful little boy. Now I am grown and flown the nest, I know thou
standeth with the best!"
The next figure stepped down immediately. I took a moment to
recognise Simon in a golden doublet and hose carrying my precious corn
dolly given to me so many years ago by young Georgie. "For Mars the
farmer's boy thou had a word which sent him to his bed. He thanks you for
that timely word which made him turn his head. Your friends around send
greetings fine, sweet memories from the past and those who cannot be with
us have friendships which will last." He gave me the corn dolly and
smiled. Oh, he was just like Alun at that age!
"I'm Robin the cellarer and bring you all good cheer, we're awfully
sorry it's just old Adnam's usual beer." Grunty stepped forward in dark
blue pantaloons and hose with an artfully ripped white shirt showing off
his hairy pectorals and presented me with a plastic container. There had
been a groan at the awful pun using the name of a well-known Suffolk ale.
"For you we know have talents wide and none can that gainsay, so boaties
dim and scholars wise drink to your health today." He bowed low and also
handed me a scroll which I guessed was another copy of that fateful Cleggy
and Nobbo article.
I hoped none of the others would ask what the document was, but OK,
the next one came forward. No it wasn't one, it was a pair, bearing a
large saw. Both were wearing identical russet brown tunics and hose, with
tricorn hats and long peacock feathers in them. "I'm Castor," intoned
Safar, sweeping off the hat and almost dropping the saw. "I'm Pollux",
said Khaled more brightly, doing likewise, "We work as a pair of youthful
..." "...We need no rhyme, sweet brother dear, for our task tonight is
very clear," interjected Safar, with another sweep of the hat and an
accompanying groan from the listeners, "We come to praise thee, so lend
your ears, for words of joy from those of tender years," Another groan.
"We came to thee careworn and small, your family took us in, we've grown a
bit..." Here he stood on tiptoe "....but not as tall as spotty youths and
nor as thin," He waved his hat at the rangy figure of Francis who
threatened him with the hammer. Khaled stood in front of his brother.
"Enough of this, you prate too long!" He bowed and swept his hat off.
"Good cheer, my Lord, so ends our song!" More groans.
Another tall, rangy youth stepped down, in cream figured doublet and
hose and a short cloak in scarlet, carrying a small axe. "Tis I the
stripling James, in truth I have both names, for in the book the wood boy
strong and lithe is James the first, while in body here with foot in mouth
[he pronounced it 'mithe'] is James the second who is worst." Several
cries of 'Hear, hear' greeted that. "But father dear, it is most clear you
are the one to praise for putting up with such a crew of boaties dim and
scholars wise..." He pronounced this with the upper-class sound of
'waise'. "Your hair is grey with worries many, but I am James so lend a
penny!" James' pleas for money were very well-known so there were cries of
'Don't give him anything', 'He owes me a quid already', from his
enthusiastic confederates.
Unabashed, he moved aside as a figure with long golden tresses and
enveloped in a long dark green cloak descended half way down the stairs.
"Messieurs et Madames, vos attentions, s'il vous plait, but I have little I
wish to say, for praise enough all you have seen, we nine are few but in
this little play have been those characters so deftly drawn by Milord's
great-granddad in years well worn. My praise will be a merry tune when all
is done upon the stair." At this he dropped the cloak and Stephen was
revealed glistening from head to toe and clad only in an exact copy of the
coney-skin belt and furry pouch as described in the book and with his flute
on a cord around his neck. There were several wolf-whistles. He waved his
hand upward. "But what is this, an apparition so fair..."
"...Hush, boy, your prattling cease...," The old hag descended and
said all this in a piping, grating voice. Oh Lor! It was Pa! "...I come
today to hold the peace." He poked Stephen, gently, with the staff.
"...For if this play goes on a whiles then groans will over- weigh the
smiles. So, let us be a merry host, and for the birthday boy raise now a
toast!....."
Out came Sam, Davy and Nick with trays of flutes of champagne and I
was drowned in shouts of 'Happy Birthday' and several glasses of bubbly
which went quickly down the hatch!
What an evening! Friends and relations were there. Even Nobbo and
Cleggy with wives - but no kids I was glad to see as if Cleggy's pair had
been there they would have had Stephen's coney-skins in tatters by now!
Sayed and Ibrahim were there with Lachs, Flea and Titty Temple-Tempest in
attendance. I noticed Jem and Sam had borrowed the best college plate for
the elaborately set out table. I think about thirty or so sat down with
Anne and I flanked by all our 'sons', real, adopted or surrogate. I found
that the playlet had been Jody's idea and the costumes had been begged and
borrowed from the ballet company costumier. I didn't dare ask who wrote
the doggerel but Ma sitting next to Jody at one end of the top table seemed
very pleased with herself. Pa insisted on remaining in costume and was at
the other end with Simon talking quite animatedly to him.
23. 1970
At the beginning of the Easter holiday Khaled came back from Trinity
very agitated. He had been 'ordered' to go to London for the 'marriage'
and consummation thereof on Wednesday the First of April. He was too
agitated to see the ludicrousness of the date. He was quite determined he
didn't want anyone to accompany him. Safar was a tower of strength and the
two lads sat and talked together a lot over the Easter holidays.
James, I knew, was itching to make comments but I threatened him with
letting Grunty and Francis loose on him with scalpels at the ready if he so
much as mentioned the event. "No, Dad," he said, with his grin, "I
wouldn't say anything.... But I can think things!"
As it happened it seemed to have turned out alright. Khaled was away
for five days and told me it was all very discreetly done. He grinned and
said he thought he'd acquitted himself well. After supper that evening he
was displaying a very ornately decorated dagger which the girl's family had
given him. James, of course, had to withdraw the dagger from its sheath
and made great pretense at testing the sharpness of the blade. He then
winked at Khaled. "Shouldn't be too bad. Quite quick. Hurray! It's a
boy! Swish, swish! Khaled won't stray!" Unfortunately for James the
blade was sharp and he caught the end of a finger. "Mum, help, I've cut
myself!"
Mum was not sympathetic and made remarks about the older he got the
more babyish he was and it was his own fault for making improper
suggestions at the dining table. Still, she did take him off and put a
plaster on his finger.
James was reasonably confident about his Finals. Anne insisted he
came back home while the exams were on so that he got fed and got some
sleep. It must have worked. My second son got a First. He was also
flying the nest. His trip to Chester the year before was to ask if he
might, if he passed his exams, join the family firm and become a solicitor.
That was all settled. Rhys was now the senior partner with Emrys as his
second-in-command. How two jokesters like Rhys and James would get on was
anybody's guess. James said he had decided to go north to give his aging
parents a chance to get on with their lives. As a present we paid for him
to go to the States to stay with my cousin Chuck and travel around a bit
with Brad so in June he disappeared off for a couple of months.
*
I'd visited the Embassy in London a couple of times to complete the
usual formalities, for Safar mainly now, since Sayed had become Ambassador.
The second time I saw him he said he was getting very tired with all the
work and he never seemed to be able to relax. I suggested that as he had a
very trusted staff why didn't he just take off for a weekend now and then
and come to Cambridge. I knew he enjoyed family life and was a delightful
companion. His aide, Ibrahim, who was always in the room with him, was the
young man who had been in Rome with him and was also a cousin of sorts. I
knew he couldn't be alone so I invited Ibrahim as well. Ibrahim looked
just like an older version of Safar especially and was very stately in his
Arab robe and headdress which both he and Sayed wore in the Embassy. He
smiled and bowed.
In July I had a 'phone call on the Thursday morning. It was Ibrahim.
Would it be possible for His Excellency to visit on Friday and stay until
Sunday evening? Of course, was the response. Ibrahim sounded relieved.
Two hours later I had a 'phone call from Lachs.
"Thanks for inviting Sayed for the weekend," he said. "There's a big
demonstration on Saturday here and we don't want him and one or two other
ambassadors around. I've given Ibrahim a map and he'll be driving him.
It'll be an old car we're supplying - here's the number. If you see anyone
strange around it'll be a couple of my boys, they'll be repairing telephone
cables, so to speak. Any problems dial the number Ibrahim gives you.
They'll come running!"
Problems? None. An old Morris drew up in the drive in the middle of
the afternoon. Two nondescript figures emerged. Sayed in an old linen
suit and Ibrahim in slacks and open- necked shirt. Khaled and Safar rushed
to meet their father. Both were much taller than he was now. Ibrahim
stood back and smiled. Very gravely they shook hands with him. Then it
was tea in the garden. Sayed asked where Stephen was and we explained he'd
got a month in a London show as part of the line-up in a dance routine.
Experience! I said he and Jody would be coming down for Sunday lunch.
No problems over accommodation. Sayed had the big en suite guestroom.
Khaled had commandeered Francis's room as his own but gallantly said he
would move in with Safar for the weekend. So, Ibrahim was in Khaled and
Francis's old room. All nicely sorted.
We had a very tasty supper and sat chatting. Khaled and Safar were
gossiping mainly with Sayed, and Anne and I were talking with Ibrahim. I
knew he'd taken a degree at Oxford and he turned out to be twenty-eight,
married with one son of six who would be coming to England in two years
time to begin at prep school. He'd had the same experience as a boy and
was very fond of England. Later, when Anne went out to make more coffee,
he confided that he'd also had the same experience as Khaled and his, too,
had been an arranged marriage with the consummation in his own country
before he came back to work permanently at the London Embassy. He'd been
picked specially to be Sayed's aide and I could see there was a great
rapport between the pair.
No problems? Except that next morning as I was laying up the table at
breakfast who should come into the room but Francis and Ibrahim laughing
together.
"Dad!" said Francis as soon as he spotted me, "I come home and I
nearly get murdered in my own bed." He laughed.
I motioned for them to sit down and poured them both a cup of tea.
"So, what happened and why are you here?"
"Oh, Tony's gone to talk at some conference and Grunty's gone off with
his girlfriend to her home. I watched some crappy film on the telly last
night then thought lonely me would like some home comforts so I cycled over
about half twelve. You didn't hear me come in?" I shook my head. "Yeah,
I was pretty quiet. I slipped into the bedroom and there was a hump in the
bed so I just dropped my clothes on the floor and slid in." He snickered
and Ibrahim's cup rattled on the saucer as he put it down. "'Gosh, Cally,
you're hot', I said and the next thing I knew I was in a death grip round
my neck. I managed to say 'It's only me, Cally', and luckily this oaf here
realised I wasn't about to do him in and let go."
'This oaf', no doubt a prince of the royal blood as well, smiled.
"Good job I knew who 'Cally' was. I heard you call Khaled that when we
were in Rome. You're a lucky man. Travis taught me well!"
I laughed. "So you know 'Neck-breaker' Travis?"
He nodded and laughed too. "Yes, when I got appointed as aide, Mr
Cameron sent me up to Garforth for a month for training. That was an
experience, but he taught me well, eh, Francis?"
Francis grinned and rubbed his neck. "When I see Mr Arthur again
he'll be told exactly what I think!"
Ibrahim patted his arm. "Mr Arthur told me all about a very
precocious little boy. You made quite an impression on him. I can see
why."
True. On every visit since to Garforth Francis had been reminded of
that first time he'd been there.
A bit later in the day Francis cornered me when the others were in the
garden. He had a great grin on his face. "Got to tell you, Dad, that
Ibrahim's great. I hope Tony doesn't get jealous but Ib's the first guy
I've slept with since being with him."
I raised an eyebrow. 'Ib's'? Seemed almost a tem of endearment.
He laughed. "After he'd nearly throttled me we just lay and chatted
for ages.... Dad, he's just like me and Tony. Uncle Lachs had told him
about us. That marriage of his, it was all arranged just like Cally's and
he made sure it was once and once only. He's a lonely soul. Do you think
he could come and stay more often?"
"So were you unfaithful to my friend Tony?"
He wrinkled his nose. "Not very much..., just two lonely souls..."
He grinned. "....But if you let me stay tonight, who knows!"
To be Continued:..............