Mystery and Mayhem At St Mark's
A Sequel
by
Joel
Seq 10:
Some of the Characters Appearing or Mentioned: Mark Henry Foster The story-teller: Pennefather Organ Scholar Tristan (Tris) Price-Williams His well-proportioned boyfriend. At College of Law. Francis Michael Foster Alias Toad/Gobbo Mark's younger brother Shelley Price-Williams Tris's sister Adam Benjamin Carr Mark's cousin: chunky and cheeky with it Ivo Richie Carr Ditto, as his twin, safely married diplomat Sophia Carr Their mother in Dorset George Carr Their father: A farmer Nathaniel Tempest Adam's boyfriend: a church historian Raphael Pack An Aussie blond bombshell Lachlan Cameron-Thomson Colonel: ex-Military Intelligence Ibrahim Al-Qureshi Major-domo at Ulvescott Tariq bin Ibrahim Al-Qureshi Financial Statistician Jerzy zum Adamszberh Son of V-C of Rodolfer University
Saturday Morning
I phoned Ulvescott and spoke to Ibrahim. He wanted to know how I'd got on in the exams. He had read Maths at Oxford and his son, Tariq, had read Maths here in Cambridge, so he was quite sympathetic about any feelings I had and was very encouraging about my decision to stay on for Part III. I told him quickly about the possibility of going to Rothenia and he said I'd better talk to the Colonel and he would get him to 'phone back.
The call came about five minutes later and after a bit of chitchat I told the Colonel all I knew about Curt Stein's and Jerzy's backgrounds. I also told him about the invite to Sunday Dinner at the Master's as there was the distinct possibility I would be going to Rothenia on an exchange plan. I said James Tanner would be there as well and Curt would be serving. He suggested I should tell whoever was there the whole tale about the burnt documents and see what might be discussed. It would be OK as he'd already let Mrs Moore and Liam know about the notes. He would like to know if anything came up and he would also set off a few enquiries as well. He also said that he'd been retired a good few years now but still kept contacts and enjoyed a bit of a challenge.
I asked how the memoirs were getting on. He laughed and said he and the Sheik were scribbling like mad. He said Adam had gone to the National Archives at Kew to check up a few details from over forty years ago but most of the good stuff would still be restricted, except it was in his memory as well! I said I was looking forward to reading the book when it was published. He laughed. "So are a few friends and enemies, I think. Adam is also consulting your Mr Fullerton about libel as well. Not naming names but there are a couple of well-known personalities whose activities a few years ago might be of public interest. Do you know about the Spycatcher row?" I said I'd heard of it but hadn't read the book. "I've a few scores to settle on behalf of friends and colleagues. This book will set the record straight about several things, including the loss of two of my contacts during the Cold War, and it'll add a bit more fuel to the fire that other book caused."
I asked if the Sheik was writing a separate book. He said he wasn't but there were plenty of incidents where the lives of the two had coincided, including their early days at Sandhurst through to the rescue of the Sheik's sons from kidnap and various times when diplomatic disasters had been averted. "When you get back from Rothenia come and tell us all about it. You are always welcome here, " he said. "With Tristan," he added.
I got myself ready for Chapel. This would be the last time I would be officiating as the current Pennefather Organ Scholar so I had to put on a good show. Not too blatant a showoff but...! I was to play just the outgoing piece, although I was also down to conduct the anthem, a lovely motet by Thomas Tallis. Gwilym and Ben would do the rest. Feeling very grand in my new FRCO hood I think I conducted the choir quite well. Then up to the organ loft! As the last hymn was 'A Safe Stronghold' I was all ready when Ben slid off the bench at the end of that before the Chaplain said the final blessing. I carried on the tune with Reger's 'Ein' Feste Burg' and had the full organ, with the sixteen foot Bombarde, for the last double-pedalled bars. I didn't expect it but as the reverberations died down there was applause. Ben pointed me to the organ rail. The Chapel had been packed - giving thanks for the end of exams, no doubt - and the congregation were still all there. I stood at the rail and bowed. I felt very honoured, very proud and very sad all at the same time. My three years were up. There were plenty of congratulations when I went down to the choir. All were friends. Fiona and Dina came over and, to a slight round of applause again, stood either side and kissed me. This set off a chain reaction and I ended up with several shades of lipstick on my cheeks! I did only shake hands with the males in the choir, though one or two edged forward as if, and grinned. As I went through the Chapel door, still shaking hands, the Chaplain also took my hand in both of his and whispered 'I think the dark red shade suits you best!".
The next job was to make myself presentable for lunch with the Master. Firstly, washing my face! Secondly, seeing my shoes were polished.
On my various meetings with him I had found him to be most friendly, with a quirky sense of humour and very knowledgeable about music, in particular. I had to admit I had no knowledge about his speciality, Biochemistry, except that he'd been involved in the synthesis of some vital constituent in the production of a drug concerned with helping heart disease amongst other things.
I thought I looked smart enough as I peered through the window waiting to see when James Tanner appeared so I could follow him to the Master's Lodge. I was rewarded as dead on twelve forty-five he appeared through the main gate with Paul Phillips and together they made their way past the Porter's Lodge. I straightened my tie for the tenth time and hurried from the set. I had almost reached the front door as they were being admitted by the Master. They went in and he waited until I got to the door.
"Good morning, Mark," he said smiling, and held his hand out in welcome. I bowed my head, shook his hand and said, "Good morning, Master," in reply.
"No time for formalities," he said, laughing. "Thank you for that stirring end to the service. Not often does the organist mesmerise the congregation like that! It's a fine hymn anyway and you put the crowning touch to your career as organ scholar here." He waved his hand at the open door. "Come in, drinks first and then a real Sunday roast dinner." He winked. "My wife's the best cook out, but don't tell Cheffie!"
He led me through to where James and Paul were standing and being handed glasses by Curt who smiled when he saw me. Wow! In black waistcoat, white shirt, bow tie and black trousers he looked a real picture. Down Fido! The Master was speaking. "You know James and Paul already so no introductions necessary." I smiled at both who acknowledged me with a return of smiles. "There is some College Amontillado on offer, Mark. I doubt if you have had the opportunity of sampling this. The first batch was laid down in 1792 which is a date to remember as you know..." Yowks, the wall-paintings. "...We didn't know why, but Charles has unearthed an oblique reference to a barrel of something being deposited in the College wine cellar as a gift from a grateful father for the reinstatement of a son after rustication. There is an empty barrel still there and we think it's the one."
"And since then," said James, holding up his glass, "The College has managed to continue the line."
Curt came over to me with a schooner of pale sherry on a silver salver. "Mr Foster," he said, with such solemnity, "The 1928 blend."
I took it gingerly. I looked at James and Paul who raised their glasses. Paul winked at me.
"Glad you were invited," he said, "Last time I was here, Eric gave me something he'd bought in Sainsbury's, I think!"
"Paul!" the Master said with mock severity - rather like Charles, "That was the best they had on offer. And I've never known you to refuse a drink! Anyway, don't embarrass the lad. It's the first time we've had the honour of a King's visit since George the Third mistook the College gatehouse for a stable for his horse and swore at the Master for not having hay or straw ready." The Master raised his glass. "To the College and to Rothenia! God bless them both and may they prosper!"
A voice came from the doorway. "And where's the skivvie's glass?" It was Mrs Mays.
The Master continued, still holding up his glass. "...And to skivvies wherever they serve! Curt! A glass for my wife, please."
Curt was there immediately, a fifth schooner of sherry was handed over and the toast was drunk.
"Curt," the Master said, "No doubt you tasted some to see it was still drinkable but have a glass yourself. Not too much, you may be my godson but you are the servant on duty today, remember." He looked at me and smiled. "Curt told me you knew his father and I were undergraduates together here but he didn't tell you the other." Curt screwed his face up as I looked over at him.
"Don't do that, dear" Mrs Mays said, "It might stick like that and what would Logan say!"
My, oh my! Curt blushed.
Mrs Mays looked at me and grinned. "It's OK. Logan's in the kitchen. He's been helping me with the vegetables and at least he knows how to make gravy!"
Too much for Curt and the silence of the good servant. "Auntie Babs!" he expostulated, "Just because there were lumps as I forgot to sieve it last time!"
"You were forgiven," she said and raised her glass at him. She turned to me. "Glad the examination grind is over?" she asked.
"Too true," I said. "I must admit I feel a bit lost. Undergraduate days are over."
"That's if you pass," James said with a grin.
"I expect you will," added Paul with an even bigger grin.
"But with what?" I said resignedly.
The Master laughed. "Too much emphasis these days on results. I know James and Paul did very well. They must have worked hard. I managed a reasonable second." He nodded ruminatively. "I did spend quite a bit of my time playing Bridge, rugger and rowing as an undergraduate, but somehow I ended up here." He took a swig of his sherry. "But three of the best masters at my Prep School had Oxford Fourths. They certainly knew how to teach and got the rudiments of Geography, History and English into us with the help of a slipper, a leather belt and a half-metre ruler. That last had Applied Psychology etched on it." He held his glass towards me. "I wouldn't think it's too bad teaching sums to small boys once you can get their attention by the judicious application of something which doesn't leave bruises these days!"
"Eric, stop teasing. I'm certain Mark will get what he deserves and nothing less." She turned to Curt. "Curt love, there's a tray of bits out there." She turned us. "My apologies, I forgot to ferry them in."
I must say the Amontillado was delicious. Dry and nutty with a woody tang after the sip lingered and then went down. Ah! If I didn't get on here perhaps I could become the wine correspondent for a daily paper. Especially if I got to taste such delights. The tray of tidbits was also delectable. 'Auntie Babs', as I now thought of her and could tease Curt with later, said that Manuel, the new under-chef, was making a speciality of 'amuse-bouches' and was making a good profit for the College much to the discomfiture of some of the other college chefs and they were lining up for tuition. A second glassful was poured from a somewhat dusty bottle with just a handwritten label stuck haphazardly on it. I was getting another taste of the other side of College life.
Mrs Mays went to check if all was ready. It was, and dead on one fifteen we filed through to the dining-room. I thought my room was perfection This was utterly superior. The dark oak panelling shone, the pargetted ceiling had at its centre a delicate hanging chandelier, the pictures were superb, the two cabinets flanking the stone fireplace were filled with flawless looking china and the table was laid with silverware and crystal glasses over a brilliant white cloth. A tall grandfather clock ticked away the seconds as we stood and the Master recited the College Grace. The Master and Mrs Mays sat at either end of the much reduced in size table with Paul and James on one side and me in solitary state on the other side. Wow! And a second Wow!! Curt came in bearing a platter with a roast joint of lamb on it and Logan, resplendent in full Highland dress of black jacket, jabot, kilt, sporran and skean-dhu tucked in his sock, carried in a tray with covered tureens on it. Both looked a little flushed, whether from exertion, nervousness, or a little Amontillado, it was hard to tell. A second foray to the kitchen produced further tureens, a gravy boat and a pile of warmed plates.
Logan stood by the Master and handed him plates as he carved the joint, then placed them before Mrs Mays, Paul, James and me in that order. Curt followed holding the main tureen filled with crisply cooked roast potatoes. Mrs Mays indicated we should help ourselves to the other vegetables and I soon had a loaded plate which I liberally doused in lovely brown gravy from the sauce boat handed to me by Curt.
"I asked the lads if they would join us but I think they're a bit shy," said Mrs Mays, "Perhaps after the pudding." I noted Curt gave Logan a look and nodded. Two more plates were produced and loaded and they went off.
Not much was said as we ate steadily and drank the very nice light red wine which Paul poured for us. Two glasses of Amontillado, two glasses of red wine and a real Sunday roast and I was feeling very relaxed. Then there was a pudding. A spicy apple and raisin crumble with flowing yellow custard. Logan nudged me as he poured it over my helping. "I made that, too," he whispered.
I felt quite replete after that quite sumptuous meal. Poor old Tris. Missing this because of his first exam tomorrow. But his Mum always did a good Sunday dinner as well. Still, I would be seeing him soon. But to business. As we scraped the last remnants off our plates Mrs Mays said we could have coffee, and then discuss things, in the drawing-room. We adjourned to that room. Again, a beautifully proportioned, decorated and furnished room. Comfy easy chairs and low tables. Curt wheeled in a trolley with coffee pot, cups, jugs, small glasses and a bottle of some sort of liqueur.
"James," the Master said, "I think we should introduce Mark also to the College liqueur." He held up the dark bottle. "First blended over here by our first lecturer in Natural Philosophy as Science was called in those days. A friend of Lavoisier, he was the son of a French aristocrat who had made the right decision to leave their country just before the Revolution, unlike the poor discoverer of oxygen. The family lost their estates, not their heads, and certainly not the recipe for this. Seventeen herbs, brandy, Cambridgeshire honey and a special licence now from Customs and Excise for it to be brewed once every five years by the monks in one of our abbeys. Can't tell you where but they are famous for other concoctions! Known as St Mark's Fire by those unwary enough not to sip!" He laughed. "That's the only warning you'll ever get."
"Eric," his wife said, holding up an empty glass, "Get on with it." She looked at me. "I've had to get used to him. Good job he's never got hold of the recipe or I'm sure we would have gallons of the stuff as the only thing his laboratory would ever produce."
"My dear, if only... I could make a lot more money with this I think."
"Who has the recipe?" I asked as Mrs Mays handed me a half-filled small glass. I held it up to the light. The golden liquid seemed to glint and shimmer in the light.
"The Abbot and the Fellow in Mathematics under the rules," said the Master pointing at James.
He shook his head. "All I'm responsible for is a locked box kept in the Abbey safe. The Abbot has the key. I've never been able to read the recipe although I've seen it five times. It's in archaic French but two of the monks know it and pass it on under an oath of secrecy. The secret's apparently in the proportion of the herbs and last time the monk in charge was worried as the sources are getting quite scarce. In fact, I have a suspicion that at least two used to be got from Rothenia before the War. He said the particular ones were mountain herbs." He laughed. "If you took vows you might be able to hunt around for the ones we need. I don't even know their botanical names, though."
"Why not ask the monk for the names of any six herbs including the two and I could see if all or any are available," I said.
"Good thinking, that lad on the wing," said the Master, echoing a phrase often used by Uncle Nick, which I assumed he'd picked up in his rugger-playing days. "Is that possible?" he asked James.
He laughed. "Trust Mark to come up with a solution. I'll phone Abbot John in the morning. We are due for a brew-up in November this year so it might help to have someone in situ, as it were, to find out what's available."
"Good," said Paul, "Now let's try the Fire. I remember from last time. Take care!" He touched the glass to his lips, took a deep breath. "Wow!!"
Curt and Logan had passed coffee cups and the glasses to each of the others. I set my coffee down on the table next to where I was sitting. I raised the glass. I sniffed cautiously. The aroma was heavenly. A distillation of a multitude of subtle scents. I tipped the glass slightly and took a drop - just a drop - on my tongue. As the warmth of my mouth raised the temperature of the drop so the bouquet increased. The drop evaporated and the most glorious heated sensation seemingly hit my tongue. I took a second, then a third drop, and the feelings intensified to such an extent I could only compare the impact as the equivalent of the feelings one had just at the first shock of a powerful orgasm. I closed my eyes and sipped this time. This time I was lost in Fire! Yes! My mouth, nasal passages and gullet were experiencing their own version of the most awesome sexual release I'd ever had. I smiled and opened my eyes. James was grinning at me. He knew I knew. Wow!!!
"Watch it, you two," the Master admonished, as Curt and Logan raised their glasses simultaneously, "It's not lemonade!"
The looks on their faces as they took that first drop were priceless. Two others experienced that Fiery embrace.
The Master pointed at the bottle. "That was from your first distillation, James, 1979. Way before I came back here. But it's worth being Master to be in charge of the cellar which holds the supply. Albeit firmly under lock and key"
We settled to coffee and further sips with Curt and Logan sitting side by side on a two- seater. Logan very primly not leaning back with legs apart - but I guessed he was wearing undies under his kilt anyway! Mrs Mays poured more coffee and the Master started.
"The main reason for all to be present today is to find out if Mark is willing to be the first exchange student to the Rodolfer University, but first, a vote of thanks to Curt and Logan for helping my wife."
Paul interrupted. "...And a big vote of thank to Barbara for the preparation and cooking." He raised his glass.
"Thank you," she said, "But the lads were a great help..."
"...And thanks to both of them for being so decorative," said James and I noticed he gave Logan a wink.
The Master flapped a hand. "To our muttons! I assume, Mark, you are willing to go?" I nodded. "The arrangements are that you will be accommodated in the Maths Faculty for a period of a month in the first instance towards the end of their Summer semester which seems to be the week after next." He laughed. "Just time to get packed and you'll miss the May Ball. Would that be convenient? The flights are quite easy to arrange. Stansted to Hofbau by cheap flight, then, I'm afraid, a fifty mile train trip to Strelzen, but you'll see quite a bit of the country. Your cousin's at the Legation in Strelzen so you'll have a point of contact." What could I do but agree. I nodded. "It's a bit of a rush, I admit, but this is the time, apparently, when their research students have to present their work and findings and James tells me you have at least four results you could give seminars on in between a bit of sightseeing."
Oh, my God, what's this? I looked at James who just had the usual enigmatic look. I'd never given a seminar, and what were the four results I had? The two papers plus whatever James had unearthed from my ramblings in the notebook? Was this enough? I was panicking. And the main thing - I wasn't even a research student. I didn't even know if I'd passed!
"If James is willing to give me some help," I said, looking, I thought imploringly, at him.
He must have recognised the look but was determined to let me suffer. "Piece of cake. Just baffle them with a few equations and how to solve them. Trouble is, they've probably all been drilled in the intricacies of Polish logic and such like so they'll be streets ahead..."
"James!" Paul said, "That's enough. I know what it's like at home when you have to present something. 'Will I be OK?' 'Do you think I've got the right level?' Don't worry, Mark, your notes will be checked over scrupulously or he'll have me to contend with!"
James laughed. "Mark, if you only wrote out the stuff in your notebook you'd have them drooling. Trouble is, I'll have to work hard to keep up with some of it." He winked. "Tomorrow, ten o'clock. My room and bring at least two pads of paper!"
I breathed a sigh of relief. I looked at the Master. He was laughing silently, as was his wife. Curt and Logan were just watching the exchange rather goggle-eyed.
"Is Mark that good?" asked Logan.
"Reasonably," said James laconically.
"Stop teasing," said Mrs Mays, "You were just the same with Mike Maples, especially just before he presented his doctorate. Eric was his Personal Tutor and had to calm him down several times."
"It was your tea and sympathy that did it, my dear," said the Master, "All I did was to tell him his external examiner was mad as a hatter and his supervisor wasn't much better!"
Paul was chortling. "You've got your comeuppance, James! I've read recently that most mathematicians have Asperger's or worse... ...Still you don't shun company and you're not too much into repetitive behaviour, so only half mad I would say."
Yes, I'd read that, too. Fiona had said when I told her about it that she wasn't surprised as she thought quite a few in our group were a bit odd and rather obsessive. Dina remarked that the lad she generally sat behind wrote his notes in three colours and drew little boxes round all the main results and Fiona... She got no further as they both burst out laughing. What Fiona did I never found out!
"That leaves me," I said. "Confession time. I get panicky. I worry all the time about what turn out to be little things. I scour second-hand shops for old detective novels. And I like Bruckner's music and he was obsessive! Can't think of anything else..."
"Sounds normal," said Mrs Mays, "Not into electric train sets or collections of old cigarette cards?"
"Oh dear!" the Master, "My innermost secrets are revealed!"
I laughed. The Master's train set in his loft was a well-known secret! Curt was grinning.
"I remember the first time you let me play with it," he said, "I was about six at the time and Valerie pinched me because she wasn't allowed near it."
"She did tend to crash things," the Master said. "And, my dear, it's a form of relaxation, not an obsession..." This last directed towards his wife.
Valerie. The Master's daughter. Generally spoken of in hushed tones by the male members of the College student body who had encountered her. She was tall, very blonde, very beautiful and quite unobtainable. One reason was that she had gone to Durham to take her degree and was now pursuing some esoteric research issue, also in some area of Biochemistry. I knew Ivo had lusted after her when he had first come up and she was still around, 'flaunting it' as he so non-graciously put it.
"But Rothenia?" Mrs Mays said, judiciously changing the topic and getting back to things I was more interested in. "Charles tells me that the King recognised the ring he found."
"Yes, the Archbishop's secretary wrote to say the two rings seemed identical but he was puzzled why," I said. Time for more revelations. "But there's more..."
I then told the whole tale about the burnt notes, the translations, Adam's reply from Jenny Masterton, the death of Mr X and that Colonel Cameron-Thomson was also involved. All were transfixed as I went through the particulars. I looked at Curt.
"I think Curt can add some other details..."
He smiled, then he was away. The Master was nodding as he recounted what his father had told him. "There's a mystery here," he said as he finished, "Grandfather left something in a College but I don't think it's this one. Dad came here because Grandfather had made friends when he was working in SOE who were dons from Cambridge. Dad did say there was one special friend who he always referred to as Number Two but he never knew his name."
"The photograph album?" I said, "You said there were mounted photos from Rothenia but the loose ones looked different. Could they be of people he knew when over here? If we had copies we might be able to match them with any pictures of Cambridge dons."
He nodded. "Easy. Dad's got a scanner. He could e-mail them today."
I looked at the Master. "Adam thinks it might be Michaelhouse."
He nodded. "A very closed community. Always has been . Post-grad students only now. But, someone wrote a book after the Bletchley news broke and concentrated that one on the SOE side. I read it years ago and Michaelhouse rings a bell..."
"...'Who Would True Valour See'" said James. "There's a copy at home. And there are photographs of quite a few of the Cambridge people involved." He looked over at me. "My tutor was at Bletchley and he never said a word. Dr Bell." He raised his eyebrows. The Bell- Tanner Conjecture. James had never mentioned that, either, and I'd only heard of it from Louie and a fairly cursory introduction to the complexities surrounding it from a lecture on Group Theory. I'd said about that in a tutorial but James had swiftly moved on to another point which he implied was of far greater interest.
"Curt, use the telephone in my study. Present my compliments to your father and tell him the sooner the better and his reward will be a taste of St Mark's Fire on his next visit." The Master looked over at me. "You'd better be the recipient. Give Richard your e-mail address."
"I'll bring the book tomorrow..." James said as I followed Curt.
Dr Stein had to be told the whole tale so we were several minutes on the phone. He sounded very nice and it was obvious the good relationship there was between father and son. He was very intrigued about Mr X and his doings in Cambridge. "I know my father did have a friend in Cambridge but he never really spoke of the work he did during the War. You mentioned a book. If it's the one I've read his surname is given as Stone and it says very little about him. I wonder if he used that name during the War as it doesn't look at all foreign. After the War he and my mother came up to Edinburgh from London as he got a job here lecturing in European History but I was never very interested in that. My mother taught me French and German so I did Modern Languages at Cambridge as Dad revered the place but I came back up here to do research and then also joined the staff. He would never speak Rothenian, except to Mum when he didn't want me to understand. I did learn a bit and there is one thing I've just recalled. When he was very ill just before he died he kept repeating the word 'Veschuttzegen' and I found it written in the front of the photographic album." He laughed. "I used my philological skills and wondered if the 'V' was really a twist on the Cyrillic 'B' that has a 'V' sound. If so the word is near enough the German word 'Beschutzer' which means either 'guardian' or a 'buckler'. I got the impression it involved the family and something they were responsible for. He was very proud his father had been a Baron but I understood the titles were abolished once the Communists took over."
"Haven't you ever wanted to go and find out things?"
He laughed again. "Not really. I spent a year at Heidelberg University while doing my degree and my tutor there said I should make a pilgrimage to the old country but I would have had to have a visa and I was too busy pursuing a young lady who didn't become Curt's Mum! No, my father was exiled and there was a bitterness about that and as far as I know he was last of the line as he never spoke of family. But, don't let me put you off. Congratulations on being invited and have a good time."
I thanked him, but I had the distinct impression he didn't want to know about a country which had rejected and exiled his father. Curt had been patiently waiting while I had been talking to his father.
"I wish I had known my Grandfather. Uncle Robert said he was a very kind man, but very private and that all his students adored him. Grandma died before him so I didn't know her either." He looked rather sad. "I think I'd like to know more. You might find out things."
I said it sounded as if I would be busy enough anyway but I would get Ivo on the trail as well. He brightened up at that. I knew Ivo had a soft spot for the Servery lad! I did, too!!
We went back to the others and reported that all would be sent. It was time to leave. I thanked the Master and Mrs Mays, as did James and Paul and we three left together. 'Don't worry' were Paul's parting words as he and James strolled off towards the main gate. James grinned and gave me a cheery wave.
'Don't worry'? Here was I to be thrown to mathematical lions! I didn't know the language! Still, maths symbols were universal. Well, more or less so! What could I talk about? James would help. But I would be on my own. On my own? Ivo and 'Tory were in Strelzen but would they want an interloper especially as 'Tory was just about to give birth. There or here in England? I didn't know. Could Tris come as well? Was he committed to starting work with Jacob and Paul as soon as he finished his exams? As usual I was in a turmoil. No Oliver to talk to. Talk to Tris. Sunday afternoon. First exam tomorrow. He wouldn't want me ranting and raving. Raving mostly!
I waited until six thirty mulling over all the perplexities. I would have to phone him. I wanted to wish him well for the exams anyway. I looked at my watch again. He would be getting ready for supper at seven I guessed. Please let him be there!
Shelley answered the phone. I was polite. I asked her how she was. Oh God! She chatted on having won another rosette the day before. I almost had a whiff of horse! Pugsy obviously wasn't there. I didn't enquire. Please finish. I need to talk to your brother. At last she had the grace to ask if I wanted to speak to Tris. My teeth were almost ground down by then. "He's in his room, studying," she said brightly, then gave a piercing whistle which just about deafened me. "Tony taught me to do that," she said, "Useful for getting Black Carnation's attention." Yes, I'd seen pictures of the mighty gelding. "Pity he can't stand at stud," she said, "Camilla's mare would have been perfect for him...." Why discuss horse sex with me? Anyway it's dick was at least five times the size of Pugsy's even if it only had one use for it. Perhaps she wished Pugsy was hung like it? Luckily there were no more wishes expressed. The phone was taken from her hands. "...Bye," I heard the sound diminish.
"Hi!" Oh Tris! Just to hear your voice. "Did you have a good lunch?"
That set me off. My tale was interspersed with 'Yes', 'No', 'Oh God' and various other interjections from him. I didn't even ask how he was getting on for the next day. He listened patiently and as I finished outlining my worries in detail he gave his usual snort. "You haven't asked but I will be finishing on Thursday. I'm coming up on Friday to see Jacob. And, yes, I have a month or so before I start with the firm so I'm coming with you. Get them to book two seats. I've got plenty left over in my bank account at present and the student loan people can wait. I'll talk to you Tuesday evening as Tuesday's exam's a bugger! Sorry, Mum!" he called out. "She wants a quick word."
Auntie Dil took over. I told her an abbreviated version and she said I'd better phone home as well. She laughed and said Frankie had been looking for a summer job. Mr Coombs had offered him a labouring job on a building site and he'd accepted it. Driving a dumper truck she thought.
Mum got the full tale as well. She was quite excited at the news. "You'd better have done well in the exams... ....Oh, here's your little brother. Must rush, your father'll be back from Canterbury soon and he'll be screaming for food."
It would be quicker to make a recording as I had to go through it again. "Will that Rudi be there?" was his only question.
"I doubt it," I said, "Term hasn't finished yet at either place."
"Well, I thought I would send him a signed photo of me with the Thugs. You could get them to sign it as well."
"I'm certain the Royal Archives won't want a picture of your little willy," I said. I couldn't be nasty to him. "Send it to me anyway. I'll see."
"Cool! He did remark I was well-hung so he's a good judge of character."
"But that's a picture on the wall, not real life, Microbe."
"That Alistair did me proud. All the crew thinks it OK."
"Been flaunting yourself?"
"Bollocks!" Mum couldn't have been in listening range.
"Those, too?" I queried.
"Don't worry, you're famous as well. Milt says his brother Wes has the frieze one pinned up and as soon as poss a crowd of us are coming up. Ask Charles if we can have a private viewing again."
"The crew as well?"
He sniggered. "Plus about a dozen others. Pity you won't be there or you could show them the model! They might be disappointed, though! We won't stay but I'll want to show them my set so leave a key."
"Your set?"
A bit subdued. "That's if I pass."
"You will, duckie. See you! Must go!"
My mobile's battery was running down but there was also a rat-a-tat on the main door to make me sign-off quickly.
"My dear, I'm exhausted!" It was Charles looking rather hot. "Just driven my new little conveyance all the way along that vile M Eleven."
He followed me in. "Conveyance?" I asked, as neutrally as possible.
"I need a drink. I have parked it in the Fellows' car park so I won't be driving again tonight." He flapped his hands. I knew I would get no more until a G & T was safely in his grasp.
I made a stiff one for him and a weak one for me. He took his and half went in one fell swoop.
I wasn't going to tell my tale again. At least until he'd told me his.
"Where have you been the last few days?" I asked, taking a moderate slurp, "Haven't seen you around since Tuesday evening."
"College business," he said. He took a sip his time. "Chaperoning two of the prospective young Arab gentlemen around London. Their fathers thought they would benefit from a knowledgeable contact concerning appropriate clothing and accessories. Poor things had been kept on a very tight rein and though they looked gorgeous enough in their robes over there it was considered essential they were not conspicuous whilst here."
"I hope you didn't suggest anything too flamboyant," I said, imagining the peacock array which was his style on numerous occasions.
"Me flamboyant?" he said, giving me a fairly withering look. He raised a hand and patted it downwards. "Everything very muted. I took them to a good tailor in Jermyn Street and left them to be measured and to choose the fabrics." He shook his head. "What those boys want with four suits each, at those prices, I do not know. Still, the tailor said I was welcome to visit at any time when I went back to fetch them to take them to the Arcade for shirts."
"Suits and shirts," I said, "Not the usual student wear?" I ignored the implication of some sort of remuneration being offered for the introduction of such lucrative custom.
He waved a deprecating hand. "I did suggest your Uncle might be consulted."
I shook my head. "They need something a bit rough and ready for general wear. You'd better get Frankie and his pals to take them around."
He pondered this a moment or two.
"That is a thought," he said, "I did see Kasim eyeing some rather less formal wear in a shop window in Oxford Street. Rough and ready. Good terminology. Nothing too outre, though, and I imagine your brother has his finger on the pulse of late teenage fashion suitable for students."
"Finger? I guess he would be most willing to help." Nothing too outre, I thought. Not hoodies and low-slung jeans but something 'sensible' for blending into the student throng. "Give him a ring. Now he's finished A levels he probably wants something to do before driving his dumper truck during the summer." Dumper truck? What had Charles said about a 'conveyance'? A Bentley or Rolls? Even a Merc?
"What's this about a car?" I asked, "I didn't know you could drive."
He simpered. "The school I was at was rather progressive in the useful arts. There was an old airfield nearby and Mr Venables the Crafts Master gave us lessons driving the school van. I passed my test on the first attempt." Another deprecating wave of the hand. "But driving in London is such a bore and Mother prefers me not to use the garage under the flat as it is full of boxes of materials and samples. Still, she was most generous and the little Lexus is such a joy to drive."
"But do you need a car here?" I asked marvelling at Mother's munificence. What these lads' daddies were paying for Mother's advice bore no contemplation!
He smiled. "I have decided to take over a rather nice flat in Hampton House. I will also be a Tutor in Residence and can keep an eye on the new building work."
"Tutor?"
The almost empty glass was flourished. "Doctor Anstruther-Lamb has suggested I have one or two pupils for supervision. There seems to be an upsurge in interest in Philosophy among the applicants for the coming academic year and in her opinion I can be let loose on selected members of the new community." He finished the dregs. "I trust I will be able to maintain her confidence in me. I hope I haven't left any facility I had in the subject too far behind me."
I laughed. "You're not the only one. I've decided -...." I put my hands together prayerfully. "...- DV - to stay on for Part III and James has suggested I do some supervisions as well. And I don't even know if I've passed."
Charles looked so pleased. "My dear, you couldn't fail and James has the highest opinion of you, I know."
"I wish I knew," I said. "Results are published on Wednesday and..." I thought I'd better tell him about the lunch and the proposition. He sat silently all through listening intently. He smiled at the end.
"You deserve everything," he said with real enthusiasm. "In your three years here you've achieved wonders not only for yourself but for the College. We know the dark occurrences which you had to deal with but you have come through those quite unscathed." His smile was accompanied by a shake of the head. "You united me with Father for which I am supremely thankful." He laughed. "And the Master has bestowed the ultimate blessing. The College Amontillado and St Mark's Fire in one go! The only time both are usually produced is for a College Gaudy and the last one of those ended with at least four of the Fellows carried to their beds and the Bursar wasn't seen for three days!"
We both laughed and I took his glass from him. I mixed him another G & T but refrained myself. I needed to keep a clear - if that's the right word - memory of that heavenly liqueur. I asked if he was hungry and I made a couple of sandwiches. He had eaten at lunch time, too. I found out that the two young Arabs had been accommodated at the Dorchester and after lunch had been collected by Walid of all people to be taken to Ulvescott where they would probably spend the summer. It turned out they were related in some way to the Sheik and he was responsible for them while in England.
"The poor boys were rather overawed at the prospect of meeting him but I was able to reassure them that he was a very kind and amiable gentleman. Apparently he is held in great reverence in their country and his elder brother is the Ruler."
I said I'd been told that while staying at Ulvescott, but I never felt intimidated by him or his position. I said about Frankie's experience with him with the blessing and how Frankie seemed to be so close in spirit to the presence in the house.
"Yes," he said, "I talked to the elder Dr Thomson while there and he said the same." He shook his head. "A strange place and so important in the life of your family. A great pity Simon -..." The first time he had named him! "...- wasn't able to experience that aura which pervades Ulvescott. His spirit may have been healed."
True. Next time when there I would silently think about him and the awful early life he had, only assuaged by his success in College, then cut short by his untimely death.
I nodded. "You named him," I said.
He gave a wry smile. "I have forgiven him in my heart. I realised how damaged he was, but how talented he was also. I talked to Adam about him at the wedding and he said he owed so much to him. Your cousin has a heart of gold and I have made the decision to make Hampton House my home and to make the management of Simon's bequest to the College my first priority in my own position."
I thought I would raise Frankie's query about payment for accommodation. He listened and smiled at the same time.
"I think your brother has raised a moot point," he said as I finished. "I think I'll consult Mr Fullerton in the first instance."
A little snide remark from me. "Not the Bursar?"
"I think the Bursar has his hands full with the contemplation of the possible damage to the College lawns by the erection of the marquee for the May Ball."
"No performance?"
Both hands were raised and waved in a gesture of renunciation. Palms forward, hands crossing. "My acting days are over. I feel no longer the urge to tread the boards. I have no time to prepare my material and most friends who have taken part are departed to other things." He gave a little sideways glance. "However, I will be attending the Ball myself."
"Partner?" I asked, wondering if Mrs Chalfont-Meade might have been persuaded to dance the light fantastic to the sounds of some imported group. Light? All twelve stone of her?
The glance was upwards now and there was a perceptible flutter of his eyelashes. "I have asked a young lady in the Estates Office if she will accompany me and she has accepted."
"Charles!" I said. This was a turn up for the book!!
"Hush, my dear, let us not be too precipitate but I have spoken to her many times on matters of business and she is quite unattached I have ascertained. Mother was at Art School with her mother so we are acquainted."
"Not the Mayor's wife?"
He shook his head. "Her twin sister. She teaches Art at a local school but Lindsey was at Girton reading Archaeology so was most interested in our finds. You must meet her. Mother is so pleased." He smiled. "But no gossip, please. Oliver, yes, but I shall inform Gabriel and Joshua and the others myself in due course."
We were then interrupted as Oliver appeared, hot (I assumed in more ways than one) from his weekend with Zack. I raised my eyebrows and pointed to our empty glasses as he dumped a rucksack on the floor.
"Good! Not too strong. Thirsty," he said as he flopped into the chair opposite where Charles was sitting. "How are you, Charles?" He must have detected something. "You look very pleased with yourself."
Charles without more prompting told him his news. Oliver leaned forward and shook his hand. "Very glad for you!"
Then both our tales had to be told. Oliver grinned all the way through.
"My bit of news is that I'll probably stay on another year, too. Safar has recommended I go on to a BMus and Zack's over the moon. Fiona drove me back and she said she'd never seen her brother so happy." He laughed. "It's OK, Charles, she'd got permission to park somewhere behind the Bitch Niche. It's her Mum's car and she'll be able to cart everything home at the end of term." He sat and contemplated the glass I'd given him when we had started our diatribes. "Those two Arab lads. They must be related to Safar, too. He's the Sheik's son, isn't he?" I nodded. "Is he a Sheik as well?"
I'd been primed by Jak and Max. "His father is His Excellency, Royal Highness plus plus and Safar and his brother have Royal Highness titles but never use them. Safar outranks Lord Barnard by several steps on the protocol chain." Lord Barnard was the Economics don with a Life Peerage. "So Oliver, it's 'Bow, bow, ye lower middle-classes' when you next meet Safar!"
Oliver laughed. "Dad said they cut bits off in their country even for insulting the family in charge so I'd better watch it. I couldn't be rude to Safar though, he's too nice."
Charles nodded. "I was most impressed by the fathers of the two I've been shepherding around. Very upright, straightforward and knew exactly what they wanted. Mother shone as she was firm when one suggested some decoration which was rather OTT." He smiled. "I know Mother can let herself go but it depends entirely on the client. Mr Al-Faraid was testing her and agreed with her judgement completely. His brother remarked Jamail was used to getting his own way and it was good when someone stood up to him and as far as Mother was concerned he had met his match. I think that Mother's advice will be sought even more in the future. I just hope the youngsters' experience here will be without incident."
One could almost hear the cash-till's bells ringing! A Lexus must be peanuts to what she was coining in!!
"Don't be worried, Charles, I expect Frankie and his pals will keep them under control. Where will they be housed?"
Charles smiled and held both hands out, thumb and first finger together and other fingers splayed. "This staircase, top left!"
"Gabe and Josh's set when they've gone? I thought Raph was going to have it?"
"I think I told you of plans for the rooms above. Four of those will be refurbished ready for Raphael and another to inhabit."
Oliver laughed. "I hope he'll have the energy for all the stairs. He's quite athletic, though!"
I hoped his pal Hary the hairy monster, was as well. Especially if the sharing became a little more intimate!
"Young men these days don't know they're born whatever class they come from. Those rooms were for servant lads who had to lug all manner of things up for their young masters. And I remind you there was no baths or hot and cold water on tap in those days."
"More from the annals of the Servants of the Chapel?" I asked. He nodded. "And you've been holding out on us. The Amontillado! 1792?"
"A mere conjecture at the moment but I hope it will be proved once the barrel is examined more closely. Dr Havers is to take it to the Biology laboratory to do some tests." He sighed. "Dr Henson says I should spend a little time on a couple of articles. With Mother designing madly over the summer I may have a modicum of peace to contemplate the multitude of tasks I have before me. But, then, I do enjoy keeping busy."
Oliver laughed. "Got time for a trip on the river tomorrow? Fiona's arranging for a punting party to go up to Grantchester for lunch. I'm going and I met Pete Padmore coming in and he's agreeable." Pete was Oliver's opposite number in the choir. A big lad, most suitable for wielding a punt pole! "Charles?" He nodded. "Mark?"
"Sorry, I don't think I'll be able to make it. Remember, I told you I'm meeting James at nine in the morning."
Oliver waved a hand. "You'll be finished before twelve." He laughed. "Ask him as well. I bet he can handle a punt!"
To be continued: