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