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 60 [Part Two]
Vignettes From My Life
No. 34 1977 Cont:
I asked Anne if it would be OK. She had an enigmatic smile on her face when I told her the reason. All she said was that all would be arranged and it was about time as she knew he'd been mooning about the poor girl for ages and if I kept my eyes open when I went to the library I would have seen him there, hovering. Why did she have to tell me everything.
Safar came to see me the next day to say they had all had accepted and please not to act the academic with them, as if I would!
I thought no more about it and remembered just in time that it would be Anne's birthday on the Sunday so went into Heffers and bought her three volumes of the latest outpourings on her special interests plus arranging for large amounts of flowers to be delivered a well. When one's wife is a year older it is useful to keep such things in mind! I know what the boys would say when the books were unwrapped, "Ooooh No! Books?" But that's not how academics think. Or do they?
I did ask if the dinner for nine would be too much for Sam. I was told that Benjy would do the cooking. Benjy being the new acquisition in the Buttery. A very efficient eighteen-year-old having just completed a catering course and very highly valued as an up and coming chef by Sam and Nick.
Sam and Nick turned up Saturday afternoon early and I had the inkling that there seemed to be more preparation going on than necessary for a dinner for nine.
Then Benjy arrived, looking very winsome when he changed into his chequered cook's trousers, white jacket and white hat. Three of them? I went into the dining room and saw the table had been extended fully and laid for fifteen. I didn't dare enquire but just hoped that Safar would be able to cope. I didn't know if I could!
At seven thirty, on the dot, Safar opened the door and in came the two girls and Lewis. I must say if he was keen on Charlotte, or Charlie as I was informed she was to be called, I could see why. She was gorgeous, and so was Cressy. All I could think was that Lewis and Safar were two lucky lads. Jody and Peter, dressed immaculately in matching roll neck sweaters and very becoming dark grey slacks were introduced. Both girls said how wonderful the performance they had seen at Covent Garden with the pair in had been. Lewis said he was most impressed with the improvement in the orchestral playing over the past year. Jody said, of course it was all due to my friend, the new associate conductor, Tim Parker. So all was going well. Khaled passed round drinks and nibbles and everything was going to plan. He actually made a very good bartender. We could smell the dinner cooking. Benjy had informed me that the main course would be roast leg of lamb in a honey and mustard glaze with garlic inserts. Sounded alright and the smells emanating from the kitchen boded well. Benjamin Farquarson-Forbes was in charge!
At a quarter to eight the front door bell rang again. I went along with Safar to see who the other guests were. Safar was still under the impression only nine would be dining. He looked at me with such an impassive face as the assembled throng was revealed. I managed to croak "Not me" as I ushered them in. Anyway they were all smartly dressed. But, and it was a big but, they were all in open-necked shirts, kilts, sporrans and long socks. Francis came in first with Rory. Both in Cameron kilts. Rory bearing a guitar case.
"Hallo, young sir," said Francis to Safar, "Thank you for inviting us all."
Safar's mouth opened and closed silently. I silently thought I had decreed a ban.
That pair were followed by the large figure of Brad the Third who clapped Safar on the back. "Wouldn't have missed this for worlds! Hold this for me!" He thrust a second guitar case into the arms of a still speechless Safar and then picked up another large parcel off the step. I assumed his voluminous kilt was Hamilton or some tribe of like ilk.
The next pair who entered were Tristan and Ibrahim. One in the same tartan as the large Brad and the other sporting the colours of the last one to enter, Sergeant Johnny McIver.... I could only think that Francis must be having a whale of a time - with two whales especially and a slimmer dolphin, Ibrahim. And Ibrahim, in a kilt! I must say he looked superb. He looked at me and winked. He, if not I, was enjoying every moment.
"What's all this," I managed to say as they bustled around just grinning. "I hold you responsible, Francis......"
I got no further. "Dad....., It's Mum's birthday tomorrow and we all got invited. We've brought her present with us. We promise......" He looked round at Brad who was bending down and removing a guitar from its case and in so doing was showing his hairy tree trunks of legs from a back view of his kilt. "....But Brad does complain it's a bit draughty because....." He laughed. ".......It's OK Dad, we promise, though Johnny forbad us to wear anything..." He turned to Johnny who was mouthing silent Scottish imprecations at Francis. "....It's OK Johnny, we all promise not to cross our legs when sitting down."
I held up one finger. "You'll have Mum to deal with...."
Francis grinned. "We all know that, but she invited us as company for you." He turned and pointed a finger at a grinning Ibrahim. "And she said if Ibrahim says a word to his father she'll let Grunty loose on him. She did Greek so she knows what orchidectomy means! And so does Ibrahim now. Eh, mate?" Ibrahim just stopped grinning and shook his head resignedly. "Can we come in now?" He looked at Safar who was still staring silently at them all. "Lead on, MacDuff!"
Nobody giggled, passed out, or wet themselves, as the motley crew entered the drawing room. Francis went up and hugged Charlotte. It turned out he knew her as she did some voluntary work at the hospital at times. Ibrahim went up to Cressida and gave her a peck on the cheek. "Saw your dad earlier in the week and he said you'd be here tonight."
There was a general air of everyone knowing each other and once drinks were in and the nine had found seats and were sitting, no legs crossed, I asked how Cressida and Ibrahim knew each other.
He laughed. "Mr Grosvenor taught me English when I was a kid. He works for the British Council and was my tutor for about four years as well. I see him at the Embassy regularly when we're arranging visits and I've known Cressy since she was very young."
Then Charlie said her brother was at Edinburgh when Rory was performing there..... Bare bums were not mentioned... thankfully. Well...., it seemed the only one not known was Johnny, who then startled Anne by asking if she agreed with some obscure academic over some even more obscure point in medieval history. It turned out his younger sister, a Master's student at Glasgow in history, was over the moon that he knew THE DR Thomson, that is, Dr Anne Thomson.... Spare pricks?? I never got a look in. Yes, I did have to signal to Francis, sitting on the settee opposite, kilt over the top of his knees, legs apart at one point, showing his all to the angels. Luckily, or, unluckily, for the girls, no one were sitting in line of sight except me and Ibrahim. He giggled and had to be silenced with the offer of another fill-up of his glass with the punch which Khaled, with his non-alcoholic heritage, had concocted with the addition of most of the left over liqueurs bought on numerous trips to France and Italy, Spain and Greece..... Must say it tasted good, but, by Golly, it was lethal!!
Well, the evening was a great success. My, young Benjy was going to be a real asset to the Buttery. The dinner was a real achievement for him. Luckily he realised that most of the fifteen were starving students - at least, they acted the part most convincingly. Rory, sitting next to me at table was getting quite expansive as the wine flowed and the punch kicked in, and remarked that he hadn't had such a feast before. In fact, in one expansive moment he whispered to me that his father had told him he'd squeezed my cojones when I was clad in the kilt. What possessed Duncan, that upright Scots headmaster, to divulge such a thing to his son.....? What possessed a young, well, mature undergraduate to tell a well- established don that his father had taken advantage of a young lad's.....? And to veil the reference in a second language...? But then, I had tasted the seed from those cojones under that other kilt, which at some time produced young Rory....! Call it quits!! I hadn't better divulge that. But from the way in which Ibrahim and Francis looked at the very handsome Rory I wondered who was tasting whose seed now? My bet was that all three were experiencing the fruits of each other's cojones with my friend's son having the advantage over me in tasting my son's yield as his father had not tasted mine. It's amazing the thoughts and the indiscretions which occur when a good alcoholic punch, a good dinner and associated excellent wines are combined!
As we withdrew to the drawing room the lads revealed their reason for all being together other than the invite from Anne. Rory and Brad were excellent duettists on the guitars and led the group in a sequence of songs from the shows, Safar showing unknown talent by singing three solos from The Sound of Music, and Johnny sang a couple of Scots ballads. Brad sang some Country and Western, Jody and Peter sang 'My Way' and 'These Foolish Things' with all sorts of risque additions, and at midnight we all sang Happy Birthday to You. It was their way of saying a big thankyou. So all were in good humour, none more than me now, all this fuelled by more alcoholic stimulants and coffee with a smiling Benjy brought in to prolonged applause. Safar was beaming as Charlie congratulated him on the dinner. It was a triumph for him.
Sayed came to stay the next weekend from Ulvescott and asked if I approved of Charlotte Holmes. With as straight a face as possible I said I did, wholeheartedly. I then had to laugh and ask how he knew. "I have my means," he said unsmilingly, nose in air. I said I hoped it didn't mean that his trusted aide was going to end up as a eunuch as Anne had threatened. He then laughed and said he would have ended up as a eunuch if he had told him. No! Safar had asked Francis to 'phone him on the Monday morning and tell him all about her. He said he had no objection - but to wait a little while.
In October Dr Safar bin Sayed Al-Hamed announced his engagement to Miss Charlotte Holmes.
35 Autumn Term 1977
After Peter and Jody's departure towards the end of August we took off, with Khaled and Safar, to Italy. Francis, with Brad and Rory in tow had gone to Paris, he to begin his acclimatisation to French medicine and the qualifying course and they to savour the delights of the French capital. They stayed in what was now Daniel's flat. His parents had given him it mainly for his clients who visited to buy wines. However he was more than happy for Francis to have it while he was studying. He'd said to me that little inquisitive boy had grown up to be the most handsomest man he knew! As Daniel as a young man had been really beautiful this was a great compliment. And, of course, they shared the heritage of the birthmark, too.
Our trip to Italy started in Rome as usual. The previously priapic Giovanni was now a fully-fledged priest and was the curate-in-charge of the parish. He was another firebomb like 'Uncle Flea' had been. He was bigger, of course, and now sported his own black beard like his elder brothers and really put the fear of God into some of the more unruly elements in the parish. At least that was what Monsignor Mike said, who appeared in his black cassock with the red buttons and cummerbund the boys had wondered why he wasn't wearing so many years ago.
It was while dodging a hell-bent on annihilating a tourist Italian driver that I tripped on the kerb and twisted my knee. Unluckily it was my knee with the pin in it. I had to rest it that afternoon while Anne took the pair up the Appian Way to see the catacombs. I said I couldn't climb up and down the stairs. Safar was much taken with the catacomb where the remains of St Cecilia, the patron saint of music, were found. I felt better the next day so accompanied them to Santa Cecilia in Trastevere where, in the church, was the place where it was said she was martyred. So our culture trek continued with me taking welcome breaks, sitting outside cafes where the coffee cost twice as much as standing at the bar, and then we took the train up to Florence and spent four days reliving our earlier visits. We all rubbed the Boar's Nose again as that place wove its magical spell once more. On then to Rapallo, to the Amati villa. Quietness, sea and sunshine and the delightful company of Maria with four of the brood. Silvio was there with the elegant wife and two small children. Two girls, absolutely doted on by parents, uncles and grandma. Grandpa was working too hard to spend time wasting time. That's what the most hirsute, bearded Bruno told me. He, himself, was too busy fomenting unrest in the university he told me than to bother with women and children. All said, in very good English, with a grin on his face beneath that fearsome bush.
Both Julio and that first met little bundle of shyness, Domenico, were equally hairy, lounging on the terrace in what seemed to be even more minuscule swim trunks than twelve years before. Twelve years before, I remembered, neither had worn swimming trunks most of the time and on subsequent visits, into their teens, seemed, like my lot, to prefer nakedness to being clothed. Yes, there was the time when either Safar or Stephen had annoyed them or teased them just a bit too much and I came out of my study because they were making the most unholy row and there were the four, all nude, wrestling in the corridor outside their room very much like Laocoon and his two sons battling the serpents - the single serpent here could have been any of them as they all grabbed and writhed and shouted when susceptible or delicate parts were grappled. As Mrs Pring was expected in twenty minutes to start cleaning I smacked as many bare behinds as I could and pushed the yelping recipients into the bedroom and told them to wash and get dressed or they wouldn't be getting any breakfast. The Italian pair had the beginnings of their furriness even then but, as the four stood in a row, rubbing their backsides, not at all contrite and still giggling, I saw that the two still only had boyish lengths. Well-used no doubt, from the squeals heard at bedtimes, but not to match those Thomson poles on Francis and James at that age. Now early twenties they had grown into two quite muscular hunks who spent a lot of time at the gym and displayed respectably filled pouches below their slim hips and wide powerful-looking shoulders. Both were studying pharmacy as they wanted to open their own business and were going to concentrate on products for body-builders and athletes. Domenico said he had very fond memories of Stephen and could he and Julio come to stay again as he wanted to see him dance again. Any time, I said.
The rest at the villa did my leg good. I didn't go on any of the treks and certainly not on the day long trip to San Fruttuoso under Monte Portofino. All six of the lads went with Anne as she wanted to see the old abbey and I stayed with Maria and Margaretta and her daughters and lazed in the sun, drank wine, ate, read and chatted and had a perfect day. They returned, noisy, sun-burnt and wind-swept, as they had taken a boat, and incredibly hungry. All were full of praise for Anne who had been in her element explaining all the sights, the architecture and the tombs. I could see Safar and Khaled were proud of their Mum and the others, all most intelligent and well-read, were equally impressed.
On our return to Cambridge I saw an orthopaedic specialist straightaway. He advised, after seeing the X-rays, that I should have the knee-joint reconstructed as the original pin had done its job but all needed seeing to, what about end of term? I could have Christmas and the New Year to recover and recuperate.... I agreed.
Meantime, Safar had his viva, announced his engagement and also started as a teaching fellow in the Music faculty. We all gathered when he received his degree at one of the supernumerary ceremonies and I don't think I have ever seen such a proud father as Sayed. Actually, a very proud father stood next to a very proud Dad in his doctoral scarlet with a row of proud brothers, three in their own gowns and hoods. Oh, and I nearly forgot. A very proud Mum, now in her own doctoral scarlet. Also DLitt.
I don't remember anything about the operation only knowing I woke up with an immobilised leg, feeling sick from the anaesthetic and a desire to have a pee. Safar was sitting by the bed and looked relieved as I opened my eyes and I focussed on him. As I was about to say something Francis came into the room. I hadn't expected to see him.
"Oh, you're coming round," was his only remark as I opened parched lips to announce I had an urgent need.
"I need to pee," I croaked, "Better call a nurse."
"That's alright," an efficient Francis jumped into action. "Pass me that bottle, please, Midge."
"Shouldn't a nurse do this?" I asked plaintively, not expecting my son to give me a bottle to pee into. In any case I was too weak to reach and I couldn't bend....... "I don't think I can do it myself."
"I am a qualified doctor," he said tersely, "I have worked in this hospital for some years and I do know how to insert a patient's penis into the orifice of a urinal! You are a patient, with a penis, desiring to pee! And James isn't here to assist!"
Safar was convulsed in giggles. I felt sick as well. I started to retch. Francis swiftly placed a cardboard-type cup under my chin.
"Sorry, Dad, shouldn't have spoken to you like that. Did mentioning James make you sick?"
Safar's giggles had ceased as I began to retch. Wisely he'd averted his gaze. It was Francis's turn to giggle. "It's OK, Dad, you'll feel a bit sick anyway." He became serious. "I'll help you."
Under Safar's transfixed gaze now, Francis rolled down the bed covers, lifted my surgical gown, placed the bottle between my legs and carefully, retracting my foreskin first, placed the end of my prick in the bottle. I closed my eyes and let go. Bliss.
"Thanks," I said "That's better!"
With equal efficiency, my prick was withdrawn, drips were caught on a piece of absorbent paper, I was tidied away and the covers were over me again.
"Ring the bell, Midge, please, I'd better report progress," he said, placing the bottle discreetly in its holder.
I looked at Safar and we grinned at each other. "James would have had a field-day if he'd been here," I said.
"I know," said Safar, "We all had a basinful of him. You didn't mind me watching?"
I shook my head.
"All you Thomsons are the same," he mused. He realised he was musing aloud. "I mean...." He tapered off.
"We're all big, eh, Midge!" said Francis, with a laugh. "You're not bad yourself if I might say so. Miss Holmes, or Mrs Al-Hamed as she will become shortly, will be a lucky lady!"
"Francis! How could you," he said, getting slightly more dusky, "In front of your father!" He caught hold of my hand. "Don't take any notice of him, Dad......"
He didn't have a chance to say anything more as the door opened and a nurse came in. She stood and looked and surveyed the scene.
"Hullo, Francis, I didn't expect to see you here. Are you on duty?"
"No, I came in to see my father and he's just woken up. Urine specimen if needed in the bottle!"
After that I was asked how I felt. I had my blood pressure and temperature taken. The nurse, Janet, I found had known Francis for years. Anyway, Mr Forbes-Farquarson would be looking at my knee in the morning. I looked at Safar. Forbes-Farquarson? Benjy? Benjy's father? We both were obviously processing this when Anne arrived, looking relieved I'd survived. I found Francis had arrived back from Paris that afternoon and had come more- or-less straight to the hospital. No more visitors though today was decreed.
The knee was pronounced satisfactory in the morning. Mr Forbes-Farquarson, who proved to be Benjy's father, said I could start using it very gradually, but to put no weight on it. In the afternoon a physiotherapist started me on exercises and after four days I went home ready for the onslaught of Christmas. As it was deemed too soon to climb stairs without supervision I had a bed in Anne's study downstairs and held court to a succession of visitors, including Lachs, who left me with three folders of what he said was highly sensitive German information and he would like a translation pronto, if not before, as I had nothing else to do except play with myself. I said speak for yourself, mate, we all know why soldiers have hairy palms! He wrinkled his nose and said he was particularly busy on several fronts, what with his German contacts and the fact that Sadat of Egypt was causing a bit of a hooha with his overtures to Israel. Sayed's country's new ambassador was making waves and Ibrahim was going to resign and needed somewhere to retreat to, Ulvescott was being watched. It was difficult for Ibrahim as a close relative was causing a stink over his son being at school in Scotland and he wanted his son over here as well. I didn't know about Ibrahim's son being in the UK and Lachs said it was all a pig's ear and done without consulting him.
Apparently Tariq, Ibrahim's son, had been at an international prep school in Switzerland and had now, at the age of thirteen been brought over to the UK and deposited at a school in Scotland, Kinloch, in their prep school ready to move into the senior school the next September. Ibrahim had not been told and had only found out when a well-meaning relative had contacted him. He didn't know his son at all and from what Lachs had been able to find out the boy was a spoilt brat. So, to cut a long matter short could Ibrahim stay with us for a while or at Tony's, and could we put up with the spoilt brat for the school holidays? Lachs also said arrangements were being made to bring Khaled's son Iyad over. Sayed thought it would be a wise move. There were murmurs about Iraq. Things might move fast.
We were going to have a houseful for Christmas. Diane and the twins came down two days after I came out of hospital and James would be down, ready for Christmas in a few days time. Jack and Saf would be four two days after Christmas. They were a pair of inquisitive creatures and we spent lots of time together with me reading to them from favourite books. Both could read and vied with each other to show Grandpa what they could do and were much amused as Rory suggested I borrow his kilt, long socks and sporran instead of lounging around in a dressing gown. I had fond memories of being seventeen and his grandfather's helpfulness. "Grandpa got his dress on," Jack announced to the milkman when he came to collect his money. As I was sitting in the kitchen at the time he could see me through the backdoor and was relieved I hadn't become a transvestite.
As Christmas Day was a Sunday, Stephen, Jody and Peter were performing on Christmas Eve afternoon. Lisa brought young Andrew, now ten months old, down a couple of days before as the three of them would be next door with her parents, a hugely pregnant Caroline and a proud parent-to-be Garth. Jody and Peter would be in their usual room with our newly minted Dr Midge, as they kept referring to him, much to his annoyance and their discomfiture as he managed to retaliate by insisting on sleeping between them. "Abstinence is good for you, occasionally!" I heard him announce as they went up to bed Christmas evening. As all three had imbibed freely of various intoxicating liquors it couldn't have been that sort of abstinence. Khaled was in his own room - Safar remarking he was open to any offers.
Lisa was rejoining the company in January, having 'got her figure back' as she put it. She still looked very young and very slim and the couple were so in love as were the pair of lads. Jody and Peter were perfect foils for each other. They were inimitable mimics and we heard every tale, salacious or not, about theatre life, acted out, embellished and embroidered but without malice. As the five still lived in the Kensington flat with Ma and Pa, Ma said it kept them young. Pa said it kept them poor as all their friends congregated there as well and had to be fed and watered as well. Ma told him he should be grateful anyone ever wanted to consort with an old crosspatch like him. Peter and Jody, present at the time and use to his ways stood either side of his chair and warbled through three verses, improvised or not, but very funny of 'If you were the only Sir in the world, And I was your only toy.....". You can't win. As they finished he put his arms round their waists. "Why couldn't I have had a couple of sons like you? At least you could entertain me in my old age......" He realised I might be offended...... I wouldn't have been. A couple of brothers like that pair would have been heaven! "Well," he said, "That other one has continued the line..... I can't be too unhappy."
"Don't get maudlin, Pa," I said, "Have another whisky!"
So, from the end of term and the beginning of the school holidays the house gradually filled up. Ibrahim and Johnny collected Tariq off the early morning train in London. They arrived a couple of hours later with this sullen, tired-looking thirteen-year-old. He was dressed in his Kinloch School uniform, which after a night on the train from Scotland looked a bit rumpled. He looked at Anne and me very suspiciously. Me in kilt and bandaged knee sitting in the kitchen having just had breakfast with Anne, dressed in pullover and slacks cooking scrambled eggs for Safar, who had commandeered the Times and was still in his dressing gown, and two boiled eggs for Khaled who, at least, was dressed and had taken out the business pages to read before going off to work.
Very warily he shook hands with us all but said nothing. That was until Anne asked if he would like some breakfast. Scrambled eggs on toast? He did smile a bit and said 'Please'. Oh dear, I hoped we hadn't got another Simon. But then, his churlishness was fairly transitory . I doubted if young Tariq was quite at the stage of development dear Simon had been, though looking at him as he sat wolfing down his second plate of food I could see the beginning of an adolescent moustache. As I drank my coffee I noted he kept glancing furtively at all these adults sitting round the table. He did look at Ibrahim, the father he had met for the first time this morning, a bit more than the burly Johnny sitting next to him. Safar he was obviously puzzled about, especially as he referred to me as 'Dad' several times. Khaled kept glancing at him but kept quiet. I knew he was thinking of his own son. Tariq seemed even more puzzled when Ibrahim called me 'Dad' as well, but also called me 'Jacko' in between. I had persuaded him to call me that when we were with Sayed but usually when the lads were around he called me 'Dad' like the rest of them.
The poor kid was even more startled when there was the usual clatter outside of bicycles being parked and Francis, Brad and Rory came in.
"Hi, Mum!" sang out Francis, "Got any breakfast? Twit here forgot to stock up yesterday."
'Twit here', the large figure of Brad took a friendly swipe at Francis who ducked and jumped to hide behind Rory.
Rory was looking at Tariq who, fork in hand, had speared a substantial piece of toast loaded with egg, but, because of the entry of the gladiators, had stopped short of putting it into his half-open mouth. "You at Kinloch, me lad? I was there for two years doing my Highers."
Before Tariq had a chance to reply Ibrahim stepped in. "Sorry, folks, let me introduce my son. This is Tariq."
Pandemonium ensued for a while as the three were introduced, made to sit down and be quiet while Ibrahim explained what was happening. Tariq managed to finish his plate of food and sat impassively. Anne resumed breaking eggs, whipping them up and producing more and more scrambled egg. Khaled waved us all good bye, saying something about some people had to work and went off. The noise, like a bright light attracting moths, attracted two bustling young creatures who appeared in the doorway, round-eyed at the sight of most of their favourite uncles. Jack and Saf came running in to be gathered up by Brad and Francis and patted by Rory. Even more pandemonium until they settled. They then eyed Tariq.
"Who are you?" demanded Jack. "Are you staying here?".......... "If you are you can help us look after Grandpa," continued Saf, without pause.
Tariq spoke for the first time. Yes, he was on that verge. "I'm Tariq," he said quietly with the husky voice of the emerging pubescent male, "Who is Grandpa?"
"Me," I said, smiling at him.
The impassive face re-appeared. He was still weighing up the assembled throng. But, he should be fairly use to the influx of new faces having been at boarding school since the age of eight. On the other hand he had probably no experience of an 'ordinary' family life.
"Is Uncle Ibs your dad?" asked Saf............ "He can do magic tricks..." continued Jack.
The magic tricks included drawing a coin from behind one of their ears or scrunching up a handkerchief and making it disappear.
"I am told he is," came the very precise voice.
Ibrahim was sitting next to me. He stiffened. He was startled. I reached down and gripped his hand.
"Tariq," I said very carefully, "Ibrahim is your father and everyone here is part of your family now."
The two small boys scrambled off the laps they were sitting on and went and stood by Tariq. "You can be our brother," said Jack .......... "Yes," said Saf, "And Andrew as well. He's next-door." The two boys each took one of Tariq's hands and smiled at him. He smiled back. The ice was broken.
Tariq had no time to be the spoiled brat. Jack and Saf took him over and he was immediately part of the family. It took him a few days to realise about the mechanics of a busy household. Ibrahim shared the small spare room with him and told me a couple of days later that Tariq had clung to him all night the first night in silence but by the second night had relaxed and they had been able to talk and Ibrahim was able to explain why the separation had happened. He said that the immediate acceptance of Tariq by Jack and Saf had been the key.
Johnny, Brad and Rory did their part as well. Tariq, with the twins in tow, was whisked around the town, taken to the boathouse where the three exercised daily, was snowballed on Midsummer Common and kept busy with Saf and Jack providing their running commentary in duetto to everything.
There was just one small problem. When Francis came looking for morning coffee on the third day after Tariq had arrived Ibrahim asked him if he could have a chat. A few minutes later the three of them went upstairs. A rather relieved Ibrahim reappeared and said Francis was giving Tariq a little talk because he would need an operation. The first night when Tariq was in the bath Ibrahim had noticed when he stood up he only seemed to have one ball in the developing sac. Francis confirmed by examining Tariq that he had an undescended testicle and would need a simple procedure to correct it. He was sure he could arrange for the lad to be dealt with quickly but he would need time to recuperate before returning to school. As the regime at Kinloch was fairly strict with emphasis on games and sport Francis didn't think it would be a good idea for him to return until the Summer term. So, could he stay with us?
Of course, we agreed. I wondered what it was going to be like having a teenager in the house again. Ibrahim would be staying as well as he now had no job. He was planning, as soon as things were deemed to be OK, to live at Ulvescott and act as Sayed's secretary. So, in the meantime he and Tariq would be with us.
Two days before Christmas James arrived. More pandemonium, though I must say, he was strict with the twins over their behaviour. I did come in for some of his raillery. He would ask, luckily sotto voce, if I wanted to pee and should he send for Jem and Sam. I was excused washing-up so he got a couple of sharp smacks on his backside with my walking stick instead of the usual flicking with a tea-towel. "Grandpa hit Dad...." said Jack on the first occasion, ".....Can we do it?" asked Saf, who had been reprimanded for screeching when Rory had tickled him.
Another almost permanent fixture was Johnny. Although he stayed at Tony and Francis's house he was really keeping an eye on Ibrahim, or at least, watching out for any malefactors in the area. He and Francis would go running a couple of times a day, pursued by the large figure of Brad and the much thinner Rory. He always reported back to his headquarters on return and all seemed to be quiet.
So, Christmas came. It was decided no expensive presents. James said to Ibrahim he'd heard that one of the Arab young ladies in London told her father she wanted a music centre for Christmas so he gave her one, the Royal Festival Hall. Ibrahim countered by saying a friend of his had gone to see a lawyer and asked how much it would cost to ask three questions. The lawyer said 'Five hundred pounds'. 'That's a lot of money, isn't it?' the friend said. 'Yes', said the lawyer, 'and what is your third question?' Tariq did get a very up-to- date Sinclair electronic calculator and the boys had books galore and the beginnings of an electric train set from Pa. He said his great-grandsons should be engineers! Actually Rory, Ibrahim and Brad played with it more than the poor boys.
James announced he was taking a few days off as no-one wanted lawyers over Christmas. Howls of 'No-one wants lawyers any time full stop' met this. He then politely asked if they could stay until after New Year. Before the main decision-maker of the household could say anything Anne said they could. So with Jody and Peter not needed until the Monday after New Year's Day, and with Ibrahim and Tariq, plus our usuals, Safar and Khaled, we still had a houseful. Boxing Day morning Tariq and the twins were transfixed when the music started in Jody and Peter's room and Stephen and Lisa also appeared in their exercise kit to do class. An hour later I thought we might be having three more ballet dancers in the family. Stephen and Lisa went back next door but Jody and Peter had to demonstrate movements to the three boys and they tried to copy. So, between that, train set, books and calculator things were pretty quiet for that day. Tariq was too busy to be a spoilt brat.
Francis was returning to France after New Year so he spent a couple of hours at the hospital booking in Tariq for the operation on the Wednesday after New Year's Day. He had to go for an examination on Thursday by the surgeon who was going to do it. I asked Ibrahim how he felt about it. He said he was actually rather shy and hadn't realised he was missing a bit. Craftily, we had already got him to help bath the twins and so he saw, even in their tight little sacs, the two peanuts they had each. In fact, as I was bathing the twins that night I suggested he should get in with them. He was a bit shy at first but as soon as the twins said they wanted him in he slipped off his clothes and stepped in. Yes, for a thirteen- year-old he was developing. He had the beginnings of a black bush above his circumcised cock. And, yes, it was noticeable that there was something else missing. I suppose the twins were so use to seeing their father wandering about in the nude they took only a cursory glance. Tariq was very light-skinned so only looked as if he had an all over tan. I thought they might have commented on his lack of foreskin but they were more interested in lathering him with the soap-filled sponge and seeing whether they could hide him under all the soap suds.
In the morning Ibrahim said Tariq had looked very closely at him as he undressed and he'd made sure Tariq had seen his balls. Ibrahim had then explained to him he would look just like that in a very few year's time once the operation was done and he had grown. Ibrahim said the poor kid hadn't a clue about growing-up and had confessed he'd been quite scared at the school in Switzerland when a couple of the older boys had tried to examine him because he was circumcised. Ibrahim said it wasn't like his Public School with organised games and where he was examined almost daily as English boys are rarely snipped. In fact, Francis later gave Tariq the usual talk abut the birds and the bees and said he was quite impressed at the questions asked. He said he was, as far as he could remember, like Safar and Khaled had been at that age and he was likely to 'come on stream', as he put it, with a smile, fairly soon, if he hadn't already. He said while he was examining him Tariq had had an erection but seemed more concerned about the probing fingers. Ibrahim said he would explain a bit more about masturbation if he thought the boy was already there. He said it was difficult for the kid as they were sharing a bed - he grinned and said it was difficult! Francis gave him a punch on the arm and they grinned at each other. Ibrahim was going to miss Francis when he moved to France with Tony.
Tuesday morning we were making plans for the day when the 'phone rang. It was Lachs. He said a very special delivery was being made later that morning. Be prepared! When he told me what it was I shouted for Khaled who was getting ready to go to work for half the day to check on share movements. When he heard the news he turned, flung his arms round me and burst into tears. The 'phone rang again and it was Sayed.
He wanted to speak to Khaled. Great excitement. Khaled then 'phoned his secretary and said something had cropped up and he wouldn't be coming in.
At half past eleven the usual anonymous black car drew up. The usual tough looking plain-clothes Marine driver opened the passenger door and a young lady in civilian clothes, holding the hand of a wide-eyed six-year-old, climbed out. She spoke softly to him in what I assumed was Arabic.
She smiled as she led him up to where I, Khaled and Anne were standing with all our nosey throng peering out of windows from behind the curtains. "Hello!" she said brightly, "Captain Parks reporting. This is Iyad." She turned to him and said more in Arabic. She looked at Khaled. "He doesn't speak much English yet. I assume you must be dad."
Khaled could hardly contain himself. He bent down and picked up the rather startled child. He said something in Arabic and the boy smiled. Father and son were united.
We took them indoors. The driver brought in several bags and with Khaled having taken Iyad up to his bedroom to talk to him we all went into the kitchen. A rather bemused Captain Parks and a bemused, but stoical Sergeant Manners, were plied with tea, coffee, biscuits, sandwiches and a myriad questions. I looked closely at the Captain as she was explaining to Safar that she had studied Arabic here in Cambridge at Girton....... "And you took French as a subsid," I said. I had recognised her from at least ten years previously.
"Yes, Dr Thomson," she said, laughing and looking firstly at Anne, "And we used to flutter our eyelashes at you but it never put you off your lecturing. You talked about that book. All the boys had photocopies of your articles and wouldn't let us see them. Actually my brother, Philip, was one of your students. You had him for tutorials in his third year - must have been 1968." She laughed. "He nearly got rusticated for all that graffiti near the Senate House. A couple of coppers caught him but he told the Dean he was only reading it."
I remembered Philip Parks. He was one of the student leaders when we were getting the first of our sit-ins and demos. I think the graffito in question, which upset the police more than our Dean, was 'If pigs could fly, Scotland Yard would be the Third London airport'.
I laughed. He was a real hell-raiser but always punctilious as far as work went. I'd taken him on as he had alienated his previous tutor. He tried to razz me up one day by standing in front of Mike's drawing. "Nice dick you had then, Dr Thomson. Well hung lad, I might say."
I had said he should translate that into French and his next essay, in French, please, should be on the topic of the French monarch, who as a boy, would ask visitors or courtiers to kiss his cock. References not given today but to be fully cited. Needless to say, to the amusement of the two other tutees, he gave a perfect resume of the young years, especially, of Louis XIII (1601 - 1643). He then continued to say that Louis XV had to be circumcised before he could impregnate his Queen and that Louis XVI was renowned for his bracquemart assez considerable. He stood and looked at my picture, "Cher Docteur Thomson a un bracquemart aussi assez considerable......".
I gave him an alpha for his essay and an alpha plus plus for the compliment.
"And where is Philip now?" I asked, expecting to hear he was languishing in some gaol for sedition or trying to emulate Guy Fawkes.
"Rising star in the Foreign Office," came the laughing reply. "He's at our Embassy in Paris and was responsible for all the celebrations there for the Queen's Jubilee earlier in the year."
We found out that Iyad had been dumped, as it were, in Lachlan's lap the previous evening having arrived escorted by two rather flustered ladies who went back on the next flight. Juliet, that is, Captain Parks, as resident Arab specialist had been called in and, voila, here he was.
What we hadn't noticed while all this chat was going on, with flapping ears of James, Diane, Jody, Peter, Safar and Ibrahim, that three figures had disappeared. I limped upstairs slowly with Anne and Juliet following and there, sitting on the edge of the bed, on either side of Iyad were Jack and Saf holding a hand each with Tariq kneeling in front of him. It reminded me so much of that day when two frightened little boys were comforted and taken over by four youngsters. Tariq was smiling and holding onto Khaled's hand who was kneeling beside him.
"Grandpa," said Saf, on spotting me, "Can Yad come and live with us....?" ".....We like him and he could be our big brother," said Jack. "Can Tariq come too, he's big?"
Saf hadn't got the full name but who cares.
I left Anne and Juliet upstairs and went down to report to the others with Khaled, silent and not knowing whether to be happy or sad. As we were on the stairs he whispered "How will I be able to look after him?"
At the bottom of the stairs were James and Diane. James stepped forward.
"I heard that, Cally," he said softly, "We'll look after him. We made our pact years ago. We're brothers. Diane and I and the boys will take care of him - you know he'll be safe with us, he'll be our son as well."
Khaled and he embraced and then he kissed Diane.
"Where are the boys?" asked James.
"They've already made the decision for you," I said, "Go up quietly and look."
We found Iyad could speak a little English. Tariq was told not to talk in Arabic to him and by the time James and his family left with him on the Monday after New Year's Day he was understanding a lot and saying words and simple phrases. The boys were so happy, they had a bigger brother. Tariq was rather sad to see him go but there was the promise of holidays. Khaled was again separated from his son but he knew he was loved and wold be cared for like another son and, from his own experience with us, he was more than content.
- 1978
Tariq had to be sorted out. He was a bit scared about being taken to the hospital but Ibrahim and Anne took him firstly for the examination by the surgeon. He came back from that looking a bit apprehensive. As he was rather advanced in pubic hair growth the surgeon asked if he could be shaved before he came in the following Wednesday morning. Ibrahim said he was more worried about that than having the operation.
Tuesday evening before his bath was scheduled for that first little operation. Before Jody and Peter left there was a bit of banter between them and Ibrahim about getting the right stroke when shaving round 'the root' as they put it. They offered to demonstrate on him but he said he didn't even want a pom-pom finish like Jody had last year. Oh! So Ibrahim had inspected Jody. I wasn't surprised, though, when he said goodbye to them as they left to return to London, that he'd try to come and see them as soon as possible.
There was an amount of suppressed screeching from Tariq and then laughter from both he and his father as Ibrahim was wielding the razor on Tuesday evening.
When Ibrahim came down after tucking him up in bed Khaled, Safar and I were sitting in the drawing room watching some detective drama on the telly. He was laughing to himself.
"All satisfactory?" asked Safar, "I remember how we use to shave Jody."
Ibrahim laughed out loud. "I was surprised how much there was when it all came off and then the poor kid got embarrassed when he went hard while I was shaving him because I had to hold it. It happened when Francis examined him, too. I said it happens to all boys. I don't remember I was like that at that age, though. Looked quite big." He looked at me. "James told us one day what happened when he was in the bath and he said he was so scared but you took no notice." He laughed again. "I took a leaf out of your book and said the same as you told James. Happens to all boys!"
Tariq had his operation and two old crocks, me and him, sat and chatted and played Ludo and Monopoly and he tried out his French and he called me Grandpa. No spoilt brat. After a week he went back to the hospital and had the suspensory bandage removed and the stitches out. That night I was summoned to the bathroom after Ibrahim had supervised his bath. He was standing proudly in the bath. His shaved area surmounted an early adolescent, growing cock, with a saggy scrotum below, now filled with its proper contents. And, like Matt and Hans, he was deformed! His newly found left ball most definitely hung lower than his right!
He smiled at me. "Grandpa, I'm a proper boy now, aren't I?"
Two days later Ibrahim told us the lad had had his first wet dream. He'd been rather distressed waking up all wet and sticky in the boxer shorts he wore in bed. Ibrahim said he'd explained it all to him and he was just as Francis had told him and he was certainly a proper boy now. I'm afraid the men in the family cast knowing looks at each other as Tariq disappeared off to the bathroom at least three times a day for more minutes than it takes to have a pee or a shit. Boys of thirteen find their first experiences in producing the genie from Aladdin's lamp to be most interesting and most pleasurable. And not just thirteen-year-olds!
Tariq's future had to be decided. It was not a good idea for him to go back to Kinloch for even part of the term. In fact, Ibrahim asked if he could stay with us and go to school in Cambridge. He really wanted the boy to have a family life. He said he himself had only really known school and then university and hadn't realised how valuable a family was until he'd been enveloped and accepted by ours. Safar who was there at the time said he couldn't imagine not being at home. We asked Rory who had been at Kinloch for those last two years of his school-life for his opinion. He said it was a good school but it all depended on fitting- in. It paid to be sporty and to be one who could join in a crowd. He said it took a time for him to adjust, but he was older and he'd been accepted as he had the expertise on the guitar as well as being a reasonably good rugger player. Perhaps Tariq could do the same as he had. Grammar school until after the first crop of exams then the transfer. He grinned and said one reason for going to the boarding school was because his father had taken over the headship of the school he was at at the time.
We consulted the Head at the boys' old school. He said Tariq could join in the Summer term if he passed their entrance exam. We set to and over a few weeks we judged Tariq would have no difficulty. He passed and a fifth member of the family joined the other's old school.
Tariq had already met Perry Paterson, the son of the neighbours next to the Gibsons next door. He was three months older than Tariq and would be in the same form. It was just like Grunty and Francis all over again. Perry was just beginning to grow but would be short and stocky like Tariq. He was rugger mad and, as soon as Tariq could run, had him retrieving balls on the field behind the houses. They clicked immediately. Perry was a bit of a loner but needed a friend. Here was Tariq, ready-made. Oh, and within weeks, Ibrahim heard them masturbating together in the bathroom one afternoon! He crept away knowing that friendship was being cemented in the usual boyish way.
After Easter Ibrahim moved to Ulvescott where Sayed had set up his little enclave. Over the summer Francis went and stayed there as Tony was in the States as Visiting Fellow in Creative Writing at one of the Ivy League universities. In the summer the lawyers at last made a decision about the book. It was a bit too obvious who certain boys were. Not to be published, yet! Tony had finished another novel and that was published instead.
Johnny McIver, on one of his visits on weekend leave early in the year, announced he was retiring from the Army. Tony had offered him a job as general dogsbody, major-domo or whatever at the villa in France. He and a mate of his as assistant dogsbody, level of mate- hood not specified but guessed, would be going out as soon as their discharge papers were signed. Safar asked if he really needed papers for a discharge and was promptly shown a bit of unarmed combat in exchange for that little query.
As usual our summer plans were set awry. We had to get the wedding of Safar to Charlotte out of the way first. No, it was a wonderful affair. Charlie's family had accepted that so-gentle, but tough, young man to their hearts. Luckily for us they were to live close-by as both Anne and I would miss him so much. It was a real Cambridge wedding.
On Saturday August the fourth they got married in the Register office and then went immediately to King's where everyone was welcomed by the organ pealing in the chapel. The wedding breakfast was held in the dining hall opposite and James was his best man. The three page boys in sailor suits were Saf, Jack and Iyad, and Tariq, in morning suit, had been the ring bearer.
We had planned to go to Rome taking Tariq and his now boon companion, Perry, with us. Unfortunately, on the Sunday before the Wednesday we were to set off, the Pope died. Mike 'phoned us to say Rome was in chaos. Mike said he was to act as one of the cardinal's assistant so might have some inside stories. Anyway, we were going on to stay at the Amati villa at Rapallo afterwards so arranged to go there for the whole holiday. The boys were delighted and so was Anne as there were two or three more churches she needed to see and photograph. I was quite happy. Rome is hot in August and, though I thrived on heat, it would have been hell coping with all the extra throng of tourists, priests, nuns, cardinals, whoever. I did say hell!
Perry had his fourteenth birthday while we were there and I got Tariq to buy him one of the usual minimal bathing suits. I bought Tariq one as well and the two pubescent gallants flaunted their developing wares by lounging around the pool in all sorts of provocative poses. Julio and Domenico were in residence and the two lads were pop-eyed both with the hairiness and the muscle development of the pair. They still had another year to do before qualifying, but confessed they had been trying out various potions, pills and injections, I assumed hormones of some sort, in conjunction with their exercising and even over the year since I'd seen them last the changes were most remarkable. They admitted there might be side-effects and had decided not to experiment any more on themselves but they had a very good idea of combinations and dosages. Both the boys wanted to know more but were warned off trying anything without supervision and to let nature take its course until they were fully mature. They did get the boys to try the machines they had in the basement of the villa. They reminded me of Inquisition torture apparatus but the boys were soon au fait with simple exercises on chest exercisers, horizontal benches and seats surrounded by wires, pulleys and weights. I thought if the kids wore themselves out exercising and swimming in the pool they would be too tired to masturbate. From the grunts and groans from their bedroom - open windows - as I strolled on several evenings in the garden well after the time they'd gone to bed, they were exercising other parts quite vigorously as well.
Of course, while we were at the end of our holiday Anne and I celebrated our Silver Wedding, twenty-five years. That morning when we woke we just looked at each other and grinned. Twenty-five years of family life. Now with grand-children! Getting old? No?
We thought we might just visit Rome for a few days after the tumult of Pope John Paul the First being elected but the boys had to return to get ready for their Fourth Year. We came home to the news that Grunty and Valerie were expecting their third child and that, sadly, the Duchess had died. So Tariq and Perry were introduced to Ulvescott on a sad occasion for us but a happy one for them. Sayed said they must have Piers' room and both, later, wanted to know if the boy lived there as well. Two more accepted. What we didn't know until after our return home was that Francis and Ibrahim had been turfed out of the room to make way for the youngsters. Anyway, Francis had to return to Paris to complete his course.
Francis qualified later in the year but he and Tony, with the two, now ex-military, plus cook, housekeeper, gardener and, no doubt frequently ravished gardener's boy, made up the entourage at the villa from September onwards. Their plan was to live there most of the year and Tony to spend time exercising his writing hand on more books and his thinking on creative writing courses for the clamouring American market. Francis began with a few patients on the ex-pat circuit plus locum at the local hospital, but his bedside manner seemed to go down well with an increasing number of French patients so he was kept busy. Brad also took up residence and I never found out from where his income was derived - rumours of a deceased rich grandmother were abundant. From information received I felt he left pretty deep dents in Francis's bed and he and the gardener's boy seemed to spend inordinate amounts of time hoeing and weeding the far reaches of the quite extensive grounds.
In October an ecstatic Safar announced an impending birth to be at the end of April or beginning of May! He did point out he had not caught the Thomson bug. The first time had been on their wedding night but it was then or very soon after that pregnancy had occurred.
- 1979 - 1980
Our lives became somewhat quieter with the departure of our sons. We still had a constant stream of visitors and at weekends we usually had several staying. The dancers were in great demand. Stephen and the other two males were now principal dancers and were appearing more and more in demanding roles. Lisa took things more steadily. She and Stephen wanted another child and soon after the birth of Safar and Charlotte's son, James Khaled Al-Hamed on May the first, Stephen and Lisa announced she was pregnant. Peter David Lachlan Cameron Thomson was born on Christmas Day.
Ibrahim was a constant visitor too. He and Tariq had a close father-son relationship even though there had been that long initial separation and now only meeting at infrequent intervals. But Tariq was developing into another lad just like Safar. He was contemplative, very bright and had a very winning personality. I teased him sometimes about the reputation he'd come to us with. He said he just use to play up because quite a few of the fellow pupils were insufferable. Mainly because they were very rich. As Ibrahim was more than comfortably off that was a great thing in Tariq's favour. Being more than well off never cropped up in any of his relationships or discussions with family or friends. He looked on Anne and me as his Grandma and Grandpa. He had little memory of his previous life which he said was mainly in the women's quarters until he was seven when he was shunted off to school. His own grandparents, so Ibrahim said, were too busy trying to outdo other relatives with ostentatious living than to worry about the small fry being produced by sons or daughters. So, we were always addressed in that way even when Jack and Saf appeared with the inscrutable Iyad.
Tariq and his pal Perry were inseparable and Perry seemed to sleep over at our house more than his parents especially as they moved on into the Fifth Year and began preparing for their examinations. Perry had three older sisters and, I think, relished the more masculine atmosphere in our house even if it was visited frequently by the pair of gay dancers and Rory and his boyfriend, a fellow teacher at the local Further Education establishment. The masculine atmosphere was more than noticeable most mornings when I had to go into their room to roust the pair out of bed to get ready for school. Both heavy sleepers, tired out through hard work and plenty of games was their excuse. The evidence from rumpled, semen-stained sheets and two nude bodies with substantial morning erections told another tale. They were quite oblivious to all this, probably thinking elderly, to them, grandpa-aged, dons, wouldn't know what boys liked doing best.
At some point early on in the first term of their Fifth Year someone must have passed the latest copy of the hallowed transcript of part of my book to them. One Tuesday morning I went in at eight o'clock having called them much earlier. They were still fast asleep holding tightly to each other and the discarded exercise book, with the latest copy of that episode between the wanton pair of James and Allan and their fellows, lay on the floor just under the bed. Two bare backsides under the single sheet were slapped to remind them of the time. Two bleary-eyed, truly shagged-out creatures moaned as I bundled them off the bed, still clutching each other, their nearly sixteen-year-old well-developed and well-used pricks rampant. That sight was quite familiar. Rolling them out of bed happened at least twice weekly so they were used to me seeing them in that state. But this morning, it was the interesting state of everything in general as well. The night's activities were more than obvious from the state of their shafts and from the more than obvious stains on the bedding, the smell, and from the looks they gave each other as they grabbed a piece of toast and marmalade to eat while cycling like mad things to school. That previous night they had tried out the final act of brotherly love, of trust and devotion, as so many of their fellow travellers along life's path had done in the past. Two days later Tariq came along to my study.
"Grandpa," he said rather hesitantly, "Can I ask you something?"
We had dealt with drugs, smoking, plus a little lecture about loss of virginity with girls but with safety precautions. The first two he assured me that he and, of course, Perry, would never think of attempting, the third was something to consider at the appropriate time, so what was it? I said of course, he could ask me anything.
"Grandpa," he started again, "One of the boys said you wrote that book....." He trailed off.
"That copy under your bed?" They were oblivious to the fact it was still there as they rushed to the bathroom in the nude that particular morning - they were more than late and that was all that mattered. I had picked it up and put it, 'The Book', carefully on the dressing table. "I didn't write it, I translated it and that's only part of it." He stared at me. He went darker as the full enormity of Grandpa having provided the stimulus for their final greatest act became apparent. 'Audacity in the Age...' obviously wasn't yet known to them or their fellow seekers after sexual literature.
"It's alright, Tariq," I said, smiling at him, "You've only followed in the footsteps of countless generations of other boys."
"Perry said that's what his cousin Lee told him, he read it ages ago." The blush made his skin go darker. Dear Tariq had done a James. Lee Paterson was in their Sixth Form and had, obviously, been Perry's sexual mentor. A short stocky boy, like Perry, and like Perry, prone to acne. As part payment for mowing our lawn in the summer I was coaching him in French in preparation for his A level.
"Lee told the truth," I said. "Has he explained things to you and Perry?"
He nodded. Lee was a mentor to Tariq, then, as well!
"When you're a bit older you can read the whole lot. Just like your uncles."
He stared.
"You can't imagine Uncle Khaled, and Safar and James and Francis being boys like you?"
He smiled.
"We're all the same, I suppose," he said slowly, "All boys."
I nodded.
On Friday afternoon I put a copy of 'Audacity in the Age...' on Tariq's dressing room table. I knew Perry was staying over for the night. There was silence from the bedroom all Saturday morning. They were both playing in rugger matches on Saturday afternoon so I marvelled at their stamina. They came back looking bruised and battered as usual and went to bed by eight o'clock - they were tired after playing, so they said. Could Perry stay over? I had to call them at half twelve on Sunday morning to remind them lunch was at one... I said to Tariq after lunch that on no account was he to take the book to school. He grinned and wrinkled his nose. "No," he said, "We promise. Anyway we haven't finished reading it yet."
"Too many interruptions, eh?"
His tan darkened and he dropped his eyes and nodded.
A couple of weeks later I noticed a third creature was beginning to be a fixture after school with Tariq and Perry. This was Scott, Lee Paterson's younger brother. He was fourteen and a bit and had, apparently, tagged on to the two older ones for company. It was about the time that he started to be a permanent fixture at tea-time that Anne complained she couldn't find the one pound weight which went with her very posh kitchen scales as it was time to bake the Christmas cake. The brass weights were a bit like chessmen, a bulbous flat bottom with a shank and a loop at the top. I noticed a furtive look between the three when she announced the loss. I was getting accused in a roundabout way, as head bottle-washer and scullery-lad, of disposing it in the rubbish. I was sure I hadn't. Then a thought struck me. A memory of a discussion from long ago. Weights - attached to African ears - lengthen - attach to penises? - lengthen? After the three went up to Tariq's bedroom I thought I had better investigate. As I went to the door I could hear giggling. I knocked, then went in immediately. All was revealed. Or, at least, Scott was. He was standing, trousers and pants round his ankles, with Perry adjusting a small velcro sheath circling the end of his cock just above his foreskin covered knob. Attached to the sheath were two pieces of string looped through the top of the missing weight which Tariq was holding. All three were startled, none more than Scott as Tariq inadvertently dropped the weight. The original three inches of boy cock did lengthen. The shaft went pencil thin, Scott squawked, and the sheath slipped off. The cock returned to its normal length and all three boys blushed.
I held a hand out. "I'd better take the weight," I said, "I'll get the blame if it's missing." I stared at what was probably a smaller than normal for a fourteen-year-old prick. "You'd better try it with half a brick," I said, "But don't worry, Scott, it'll grow of its own accord and if it's anything like his - ," I pointed to his cousin. " - you'll have nothing to worry about. If you are worried, talk to my son Francis, he's a doctor and he'll be here at Christmas." Tariq picked up the weight. As he gave it to me I winked at him, out of sight of the other two. He knew I wasn't angry.
He was particularly attentive in doing odd jobs that evening and after supper the next evening came into the kitchen with me as I was loading the dish washer. It was noticeable Perry and Scott had been conspicuously absent that day.
"Grandpa," he said, "We didn't mean any harm but Scott's worried. His brother has been teasing him and we saw some pictures in a book....."
"African ears?" I queried.
He nodded.
"I wouldn't do it again," I said, "You might cause damage. As I said, if he is worried, get him to have a talk with Uncle Francis." He nodded. "What about Lee?" I asked.
"He's not all that big himself but he scared Scott and said no girl would want him if...." He hesitated.. "..You know....."
I nodded this time. So Tariq had experienced Lee in an erect state most probably, at least he'd seen the quiescent object. "There's time, he's only fourteen. But, anyway, ask Uncle Francis."
Scott did ask Francis and, with Perry present, pronounced he was in the normal range for his age. He was a bit of a late developer but all was well. A very relieved Scott, with Perry, were constant visitors after that and the pair now often stayed over.
I removed 'Audacity...' from the bedroom and said to Tariq I hoped he and Perry weren't doing anything Scott didn't want to do. He shook his head and smiled.
To be continued:...............