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 One
Vignettes From My Life
[Continued]
- The rest of 1973
Khaled had been woken by the telephone as well and nearly went berserk.
His great pal James was a daddy as well! He looked a bit sad after he calmed down. Although he had seen photos of his own son, Iyad, he had never seen him in the flesh. No way was he going to go back to that country. Too many bad memories. Anne said she was sure things would work out.
'Phone calls had to be made and arrangements to get up to Chester that day. I had two tutorials but Willy said that he would personally inform Mr Fletcher and Mr Jackson about my unavailability and he would explain the circumstances which were unforeseen as premature births usually were as was his son Jonathan who arrived four weeks early and to convey his and Maggy's utmost congratulations to that young rascal and he would contact Garforth to tell the other rascal, his Lordship and Mr Arthur who would convey the news onward. His Lordship being the next Lord Harford, the ex-Colonel David Lascelles, as 'Bobsy' had died some years ago.
Safar came bursting in as the Porter at King's had informed him after our call and said he was coming too. Both Stephen and Jody were performing that evening so couldn't come but would see the infants as soon as possible. Francis was off-duty for once and he and Tony set off about the same time as us. We had been told no visitors before two o'clock and we made it in good time. James was pacing up and down outside the ward with Mr Hart. Mrs Hart and one of the daughters were sitting in the waiting room. All in all a bit hectic!
James rushed up and gave Anne a hug, then me and then the rest as they straggled in. Mr Hart, bluff and taciturn, gave me a wry smile.
"Like a dog with two tails! Still, I was the same when my first was born. Wears off a bit when it gets to the third!"
After a wait Anne and I were let in to see the proud mother and the two scraps in incubators. Although both were five pounds five ounces when born they would be kept in for the first day. Pink-faced, rubbery looking, eyes closed, they reminded me so much of my first sightings of Francis and James. Diane looked tired but radiant. The births had been quite easy she said. The second one especially. As we sat and I held her hand great bunches of flowers arrived. From Stephen and Jody and Ma and Pa.
Next morning we were allowed to go to the hospital earlier and Anne and I were allowed to hold our grandsons, Jack Joseph Cally Thomson and Stephen Andrew Francis Thomson. Jack for Mr Hart, whose name was John but was always called Jack, Jack for me, Joseph as that was Jody's real name and Cally for James's great friend. Of course, Stephen and Francis and Uncle Flea were there for the second of the twins. James smiled as he said Piers' would approve as there was also 'SAF' for Safar. He said his five brothers were there and Uncle Flea and the granddads, but he couldn't pack Uncle Lachs and all the others in as well but they would understand. He was sure they would be known as Jack and Saf! He was so euphoric. We all had to have our photos taken with the infants with Khaled and Safar holding their namesakes in several and James fussing around in case they were dropped. In the end we took him, the Harts and everyone else out for a meal that evening.
Arrangements for Christmas and the New Year had to be made. It was decided that the couple should spend their first Christmas with Diane's parents and that they should come to us for the New Year. This meant that the two sets of great-grandparents on our side would be present as well with Pa and Ma staying at the Gibsons and Helen and Gerald with Tony and Francis at their house. What a performance. One would have thought the amount of clobber for the twins was enough to fill a pantechnicon from the various parcels and packages carried up the stairs on the twenty-seventh when they arrived. Ma and Pa were waiting and were handed a small sleeping bundle each to hold while the car was unloaded.
The twins hadn't been in the house long before Khaled disappeared closely followed by Anne and Safar. She came back some time later saying he was so upset, it was his son's birthday. James overheard what she said and immediately went and fetched Jack from Pa and took him through to where Khaled was sitting weeping softly being hugged by his brother.
"Cally," I heard James say, "Until you can hold Iyad, and I want to hold him as well, you must share Jack with us and please share Saf as well. We're brothers don't forget and brothers share everything!"
I went into the sitting room a little later and there were Khaled and Safar, both holding an infant and Khaled was smiling happily. A little later Tony and Francis brought along Helen and Gerald so there were four generations of Thomsons and Marchams present, only Kats was missing.
That night James said as I was very adept at cleaning up infants, as well as grown sons, I could help him bath and change the twins and Francis could come and watch as he would have to take his turn in future. It took two to cope. It was odd. It was just like twenty-four years ago when Kats and I had bathed our pair, a year apart in age; it takes two to cope with two was our feeling then. As we undressed the infants, grown even in just eight weeks and smiling, or wind, as the various bits of clothing were removed. Both were smelly and I noted James was very skilful at holding Saf and talked to him incessantly. It was then I noticed something on Jack. I pointed. James stopped chattering and pointed too at the same place on Saf. The twins, identical, had the strawberry birthmark.
I nearly dropped Jack but we managed to put both down safely then the three of us turned and hugged each other. James was so happy. "That's why I wanted you both to help me with them. It's so wonderful," he said as we clasped each other. "I've always wondered why I didn't have the mark and Francis did. But, it's come through me. I had it inside all the time." One of the infants began to gurgle. We broke our hug and I peered more closely. Yes. The outline was so recognisable. I had it, Francis had it, dear Dodo and his son had it and our watcher and carer, Piers had had it. Here it was now on my twin grandsons. We washed and put clean nappies on and called the others up to see. Francis said we had to have a photograph of the four of us. On a rather chilly night, thank God for central heating, Francis and I put shorts on and with the babes on our knees James took photos. James said the sooner we could all visit Ulvescott the better. I said it would be opening up for the Americans after Easter so Easter would be fine.
Both Stephen and Jody were in performances until New Year's Eve but as soon as the matinee was over that day they caught the first available train. More celebrations as they brought champagne from the cast to 'wet the babies' heads'. More photos as they insisted also holding their namesakes as well. Poor kids, I thought, but the babes slept through it all.
- 1974
After the excitements of the New Year the next two terms went without too many incidents. I heard that a series of papers I'd written were being made into a special section for one of the journals which I was very pleased about. Tony had finished the magnum opus of his growing-up story in the summer of last year. He had asked me, on the advice of Kanga, to go through the manuscript and see if I could identify any of the characters, even though names had been changed. Ouch! I found myself quite easily. There were several scenes which I remembered well - and fondly. He'd even got the altercation between me and Henry Gale and a pretty good description of the discovery of Henry tied up and him rather unhappy with his pals for doing the deed. From internal evidence I deduced who some of Tony's numerous conquests were and didn't realise he was actively fucking, or being fucked by, two of the prime hunks in the Sixth Form when he was in the Fourth. I worked out one must have been Cliff Bates and the other could only have been Alec Fry. >From the evidence he had seduced both just to see what happened. If the rather lubricious couplings which he described really took place they were worthy of 'Audacity'. I had a guess about some of the Scouts. Quite a few must have been a year younger as there was a hilarious account of a circle jerk which started with four but ended up with ten as more and more curious youngsters entered the back room at the Scout hut where, instead of being instructed in First Aid, the lot ended up aiding themselves first. I recognised amongst them a description of Davy Abbott, the younger brother of my wank-buddy, Georgie. Tony would have to alter the site of a second encounter with that lad from the basement of a hardware shop to somewhere else.
All in all, I think I identified at least twenty protagonists and antagonists - I remembered Dick Penbury, in 5S at the time, fulminating about bum-bandits in the bogs of the local cinema and there he was, verbatim, before being led as a lamb to the slaughter and losing his virginity to Tony under the stage in the Hall at school. It seemed anyone who antagonised dear Tony ended up on their backs or their knees, not having been felled by a straight left, but feeling Tony's ever straight weapon employed to silence any detractors. I think it was Jimmy MacDonald who quipped that Tony had 'a long felt want'. >From the account his wants were felt and more than satisfied.
Kanga whistled when I returned the manuscript in January with notes and annotations. Two annotations identified him as a scared young wet dreamer and as a grateful sucker of seed at which he groaned and said he'd already noted them. He said he'd better get his lawyers to vet it all and give an opinion on problems of libel. Otherwise, he grinned, it was a masterpiece!
We had numerous visitors and the proposed visit to Ulvescott was made. The American connection had been very good financially. In February and March we had been able to do many much needed repairs and renovations. There was a niggle though. I and Tony had been asked if we would be willing to assign the lease to the university as they wanted a permanent base which could take in more in England. Tony felt unsure. He said his income was sufficient to run the place as long as the Government didn't take so much in tax. So we were in a bit of a quandary. Chuck had written to say the Trustees had been gifted an enormous sum of money by an old alumnus benefactor who had made his money from pig farms in Oklahoma and they would have to have an answer within a year. At least we've got this year to sort it out was Tony's response and the pigs will carry on breeding.
Khaled and Safar shared Piers' room with Stephen and Jody in the Horsebox. The married couples, including Tony and Francis, had three of the refurbished rooms. Anne and I were in the African room - tastefully redecorated but with several of the original artefacts and other objects displayed on the walls. Jem and Sam had found a very nice couple, man and wife, as chef and housekeeper and they were already installed ready to cope with the usual sixteen to twenty American visitors with the help of a number of people from the now- expanded village.
The twins were duly introduced to Piers' room and James and Francis took them round explaining all about the photos as if the almost six-months-olds could understand. Both cooed as they went round the room. It was if they were absorbing that strange ambience so many of us had already experienced. At dinner that night both Safar and Khaled said how peaceful they found the room and they couldn't imagine anywhere nicer to live - except Cambridge, Safar said with his infectious grin. Safar had found the old copy of the Moskovski's Spanish Dances in the piano stool, so, with him playing the upper part, we entertained everyone after dinner. The toad kept nudging me and whispering 'Faster' and he was sight-reading!
After Easter Safar had his finals. He did exceptionally well and was awarded a Chancellor's Prize and immediately asked if he could move back in as he wanted to continue to a PhD on Moorish influence on music of the Spanish court. I asked how was that going to pay the rent in future years? He just grinned and said probably in the same way as people who discovered dirty books and published them. "You'd be surprised what went on underneath a harpsichord!" he said and skipped out of the way of my usual weapon in the kitchen, a lethally flicked tea-towel. He was also busily constructing various instruments of that time based on documents and accounts he was reading. Ma was roped in as she was fluent in Spanish and Safar and she spent many, query, happy hours pouring over old documents.
Both Anne and I had conferences to attend in July so our holiday plans were fluid. I had suggested to Khaled and Safar we could go and stay with Johann in Switzerland at the beginning of August and we had a pleasant three weeks lazing and exploring. Stephen and Jody had decided they wanted sea, sand and sunshine so had gone off to the Greek Isles and came back the day after we returned from Switzerland looking tanned and bronzed and full of tales of how they had been pursued by predatory old men who ogled their golden bodies. When asked how old and how many, they said at least thirty! Both years and men. At the time we were sitting in the garden soaking up more sun and I pointed out I would soon be forty-five. Stephen sat up and said I couldn't be, I was just care-worn looking after all my lost sheep. As Jody was practically naked at the time and his body hair had regrown over the Summer I suggested he should be shorn as he had to be frequently. For someone with ginger - sorry, nice red - hair it did grow quickly and there were often giggles from their shared bedroom as Stephen wielded the hair remover or razor. Khaled said he wasn't surprised about the oglers, the pair had probably waggled their pert little bums at all and sundry. Stephen said they hadn't had to buy themselves a drink all the holiday and they were still as pure as the virgin snow. "Slush!" said Safar.
- Tuesday 27th August 1974
I had just consigned about six pieces of junk mail to the waste-paper basket when I noticed an envelope with slightly unfamiliar writing. Slitting it open and reading the first few lines I was stunned,
Monday 26/viii/74
Dear Dearest Jacko,
I couldn't 'phone to tell you the news. My dearest brother and your loving cousin, our little Flea, has died, peacefully and quietly.
I knew he wasn't well but it wasn't until last Friday when Georgie 'phoned me to say he only had a few days or even hours to live. I was able to be with him and held his hand when the end came in the early hours this morning. He was quite lucid in those last few moments and he had that grin on his face which we all knew so well. as he must have been reliving happier times. He said I was to give you his love.
I found he'd had leukaemia of a rather virulent kind diagnosed at Easter. I thought he was just over-worked and suffering from stress working for that firm when I saw him shortly afterwards. He was his usual cheerful self and said he was looking forward to meeting up with you and Anne as soon as he could get away.
I will let you know the arrangements as soon as possible.
Yours, with love to Anne and all those hulking sons of yours,
Lachs
The signature was slightly blurred, a tear must have dropped. More tears dropped as I remembered back thirty years to my first meeting with the irrepressible imp. I was still weeping softly when Anne came into the study to find why I hadn't appeared for the past hour. Time had passed. I silently pushed the letter on the desk over her. Her eyes were misted too when she handed it back.
"There's something about friendships amongst boys which we mere women can't and will never understand. Isn't there?"
I could do nothing more than nod. That first day so many years ago when I first met him and Lachs - three boys scared of meeting each other - then a fortnight which blossomed into a deep love and friendship which had lasted over the years. We'd had quite different lives but whenever we met that spark of companionship was immediately kindled again.
I found I couldn't work that day. I needed to edit an article my publisher was crying out for. I went for a long walk, along the Backs, then all the way to Grantchester. I stopped at the Rupert Brooke and had a drink. I thought of him, another wasted life in the Great War that claimed Piers and Miles and then Andrew and Lachlan's father in the Second World War. I thought of Andrew and Lachlan, the airman and the soldier who survived their battles but then, - 'those whom the gods love die young'. Dear, dear Flea - too young. I finished my drink quickly and almost stumbled back along that long path home. It was strange, I had so many dear friends and loved ones, but for that walk I felt alone, deprived of a portion of that love, but I knew that really it could never be extinguished.... I didn't believe but I said a prayer for the repose of that dear, dear soul.
I had a long talk with Lachlan on the 'phone that evening. His grief was palpable. He said he was staying in Andrew's house in the village near Brighton to tidy up his affairs. He said there was no tidying to do. Andrew, knowing the end was near, had left everything, neat, complete. He said there was even a letter and a small package for me. The arrangements were for him to be cremated at Brighton on Tuesday September the Third at two thirty. I promised to be there.
I put the 'phone down and jotted the time in my open diary for that date. I had to sit down. I would be saying goodbye to my dear friend on that day of the year when we had first inexorably sealed that friendship. We had given ourselves to each other and in so doing had pledged that accord which no one, not even death itself, could break.
The finality of things must have concentrated my mind. Before the next weekend I had finished the article and posted it off and sketched out thoughts for two others. Those thoughts crystallised and I spent Tuesday feverishly writing my analysis of two new, wonderful French poems which a colleague had brought to my attention some time ago.
I had 'phoned Tony immediately after I got home and he said he would tell Francis as soon as he came home from his duties at the hospital. Francis 'phoned back almost immediately and said he was determined to come with me and had persuaded Grunty to change days with him. James was not to be left out either. He said he would be there as well and could combine it with having a meeting in London with a client. Just as Edward was my favourite uncle so they coupled Andrew and Lachlan as a single entity, their joint favourite uncles. Stephen was heart-broken when I told him. I heard him weeping after I told him the news. Uncle Flea was his true uncle and had been unstinting in his love towards his adored and adoring nephew. Jody came to the 'phone and I could hear him weeping, too. Flea had teased him just as he teased my sons, he had been included in everything. When Khaled and Safar came in from work and the Library they said they would definitely be there, in fact, their father had just 'phoned me and sounded very heartbroken.
Anne, Khaled, Safar and I met Tony and Francis at Cambridge station and set out early on Tuesday morning to get to London and then to take the Brighton train. At Victoria there were James, Stephen and Jody waiting for us. They said they'd seen Pa and Ma catch an even earlier train. We had a quick lunch and so were early when the taxi we found drew up at the crematorium. Outside was Beth Catchpole. She was going to play the organ and said she didn't know if she felt calm and collected enough. Safar said he would go up to the organ loft with her to keep her company. The previous ceremony was finishing and as soon as we could we entered the building and when asked our names were ushered into the second row in the second seat onwards. The place filled rapidly but I noted that the front rows the other side were kept empty. Just before the appointed time two figures dressed in black came down the aisle. They were Sayed, closely followed by Ibrahim. Francis sitting next to me vacated his place and sat in the second row immediately behind us with Ibrahim as Sayed took his place. I glanced at my watch just as at the appointed time we all stood as Andrew's family, Aunt Della, Uncle Edward, Andrew's adored sister, Julia, with her husband, and Ma on Lachlan's arm, came down the aisle and filed into the front row. As he passed me Lachlan smiled wryly and handed me an envelope and a small carefully wrapped package. As we stood Sayed put his hand in mine and gripped it tight. We never let go the whole of the service.
Beth had chosen well. Bach, of course; the Fantasia and Fugue in C Minor, played softly. The inexorable tread of the Fantasia was most fitting. The coffin, draped in a Union Jack, on it a single posy of white flowers and two caps, RAF and Naval, appeared. It was borne on the shoulders of six husky lads in Sea Scout uniform. As they laid the seemingly diminutive box on the catafalque a stream of similarly attired lads filed in behind and took their places in the empty seats. When the bearers turned I couldn't help noticing the tears on each of their cheeks as they moved into their places in the front row. A tall, slim figure in the Naval uniform of an officer in the Sea Scouts slipped into the empty seat next to me. A gentle voice said 'Hullo, bor'. It was Georgie. The unresolved g minor chord at the end of the Fantasia arrived. The service began.
I had been to plenty of funeral services, burials and cremations over the years, Dr Blake, other old dons, me representing the college for past students there before my time, and so on. Many were dreary affairs. Not today. The clergyman who celebrated,
yes, celebrated these funeral rites knew Andrew very well. It was his old friend Ludo Wilkinson. We heard stories about his life at school from his great friend Titty Temple-Tempest, his service in the Air Force - five feet five of human dynamite, a Squadron Leader in every way - from a Wing Commander he had taught to fly. Then of his more recent years after leaving the Air Force - one of his colleagues spoke of his dedication to his work, how he'd used his dynamism and good humour to rescue an ailing firm.
Finally, Georgie stepped forward and spoke of friendship and how he and Andrew had become firm friends not only from their joint interest in sailing but also from a meeting of minds and emotions from living in the country so many years ago. He spoke clearly and from the heart.. This Professor of Philosophy had the words and nuances of expression to convey what I had felt in my heart for Andrew over all these years. It was not a sad occasion, we celebrated a life.
We sat and listened each with their own thoughts and memories. The Bach Fugue, its theme so upbeat, though in a minor key, symbolised for me that life. A questing life, never really settled except when in the company of friends or doing the things he really liked doing. I listened to the sequences, one voice following another, ascending through unrelated keys but in the end culminating in the finality of the rising sequence of chords after that powerful pedal note in the bass. The curtains closed but Andrew was still with us - in our hearts and innermost being. Oh, Flea. I wept.
As we waited to file out Sayed let go long enough for me to open the little box. In it was the lieutenant's pip I had given to him so many years ago. The only thing I had which I could give him at the time as a remembrance. In the envelope was a short note reminding me of that occasion and that he had carried that pip in his uniform pocket all the time he was in the Air Force, in his training, on those hazardous sorties in 1956, when he trained others..... At all times. It was his talisman. Lachlan stopped before passing me, smiled and opened his hand. He was holding the other pip. I opened my other hand. The old clay pipe.
As we filed out I recognised more Bach, that most beautiful and most appropriate chorale prelude 'Schmucke dich, O liebe Seele', 'Bedeck thyself, O loving Soul'. At the chapel entrance we were joined by Beth and I realised Safar was giving his own farewell to a very favourite uncle. We stood and listened as the rest of the large congregation filed out, Sayed still firmly holding onto me. He was so clearly moved by both the solemnity and the joy and now by his son's superb playing. Finally, Ibrahim and Francis came up and he was led to the large limousine with its dark-visaged driver and equally dark bodyguard.
In the courtyard I found Georgie talking to a group of his solemn-looking lads. They said cheerio to him and walked off slowly. Two of the tall, husky bearers remained. I hadn't seen them for a couple of years. They were Georgie's twin sons, Andrew and Philip, now seventeen. They were devastated with their loss. Flea had also been their favourite adopted uncle, too. Andrew said very quietly that he was going to carry on his namesake's work.. Philip nodded and said, "Me, too!"
There was a fleet of cars and taxis to take us to one of the hotels in Brighton where about a hundred people gathered who had filled the pews at the ceremony. There were old RAF comrades, colleagues from work, many others, and a quartet of imposing men. Lachlan greeted them warmly and I and Anne shook hands with them. Two were in military uniform, a Brigadier and a Major-General, Cartwright and Bradley. The others were in civilian clothes, but had that discernible bearing of military experience. His Excellency Douglas Potterton, Ambassador to a Middle Eastern State, well-known to Sayed, and Charles Sibley (no Hector Augustus) the rotund, prosperous looking chairman of a major company, were there. I had met them before on a number of occasions but those memories of thirty years ago when I visited the school flooded back. They had known of me; the irresistible, irrepressible imp had made his friendships known and they had been curious to meet me at the time. We had become friends as well I found that Potty's second son, Freddy, was coming up for the new term to read Maths at Corpus Christi. I gave his father my card with a welcome note scribbled on the back.
Uncle Edward looked bowed with the loss. His adopted, so-loved, son - he shook his head sadly. Aunt Della, in unaccustomed black, held tight to her husband's arm until he wandered off with Julia, her husband and Stephen and we sat together and reminisced. I had become a third son for her over the years so there was a quiet intimacy there which we shared. She reminded me of the nights of the doodle-bugs and seeing Andrew in the sheet and Lachs encased in my inverted pullover which lightened that very frightening episode a lot. Just then I was startled to see a tall figure approaching, I had wondered where he'd got to as I hadn't seen him when we got into our taxi and he certainly hadn't been in the front row in the chapel. It was Pa, with Francis and James on either side. He and his brother embraced and then I got up and gave him my seat.
"Sat at the back and got chatting to someone I knew from the Ministry years ago, we were going to get a cab here because you'd all gone. Look who rescued me, gave me and Jody a lift in that big black car! Had to wait for Safar to finish and come down." It was Sayed. I'd wondered where he'd got to as well, but that explained it. We hugged each other. He said he couldn't speak in the chapel or he would have broken down. And that wouldn't have done for his escort to see that. He didn't mean Ibrahim, but his pair of toughies. Francis gathered Ibrahim up and took him off to introduce him to Georgie and his boys and then they found Miles Bastable and Titty looking forlorn and lost and were soon in animated conversation about something or other. Tony I noted was talking quietly and confidently to a rather distinguished man I hadn't seen before.
I said to Pa I wondered where he'd got to and he should have been in the front row. He just smiled and said Flea could see him quite clearly from where he sat.
Georgie came across with Beth and his sons and greeted Pa as well and asked if he was still coming sailing at the end of September. And then, no doubt for the benefit of the two boys, Pa reminded him once again about the incident with the punt on the Cam. Pa grinned and said he knew he was a better philosopher than a punter and congratulated him on his recently conferred Chair at the local University.
"Better than that son of mine," he grumbled, good-naturedly, "Fellow - what's that?"
I said quietly that I had been recommended for advancement to D.Litt for my last book and the papers I'd published over the past few years. I would be a Doctor in Scarlet. Pa laughed and said I was getting as pompous as C P Snow and that book of his, The Masters. I winced. No, he was as pleased as Punch and Georgie congratulated me as well, he knew Pa!.
Gradually the gathering broke up. I was rather surprised at the number of people Pa knew. Both Brigadier Cartwright and Major-General Bradley greeted him warmly. I knew that Cartwright had been in Intelligence with Lachs as I had been involved too, but Pa was always tight-lipped about some of his scientific or other involvement in such things. He had words to say with quite a few anonymous looking gentlemen who from their appearance were, or had been, military in some way. Tony's friend had been an undergraduate at King's with him and was now a Principal Private Secretary in the Civil Service and they had been reminiscing about being in the same rugger team. Tony shook his head when I looked at him. Not one of his conquests!
I said cheerio to Georgie, flanked by his sons. I by mine. Stephen was quite distraught, his uncle had meant so much to him. His brother, James, and almost brother Jody, put consoling arms round him. Safar and Khaled had said goodbye to their father and Francis had been there as well, arranging another visit for Ibrahim, no doubt, and the three of them came to join us. Georgie's sons were having interviews at Cambridge soon so were told to come and stay with us. Lachlan was remaining for a few days to wind up Andrew's affairs and then would be coming to Cambridge for a long rest. So, quite a few of us gathered to catch the London train. As I got off the connection in Cambridge, with Anne, Francis and Tony, Khaled, Safar and Ludo, I felt a whole chapter in my life had just closed. But - quis desiderio sit pudor aut modus tam cari capitis? What shame or stint should there be in mourning for one so dear?
In December I had the degree of D.Litt conferred on me by the Chancellor, the Duke of Edinburgh. I suppose I had reached the apogee of my academic career. We had a dinner that evening for about fifty in the Garden House Hotel. I was surrounded by family, friends, colleagues, all meaning so much to me, but one person I missed above all was that irrepressible Flea.
- 1975
At the dinner in December Stephen told me he'd been chosen, as one of a number of young artists, to take a leading role in a ballet at the Opera House. He had been assigned one night as Romeo, with Lisa as Juliet and Jody would be dancing the role of Tybalt. The three friends would all be appearing together in roles which could give them the openings to even greater things.
But then in March we had a real scare. In the week before Easter, King Khalid of Saudi Arabia was assassinated. I think even before the official announcement Lachs was on the 'phone with instructions that Khaled and Safar were to be confined to the house, the ubiquitous telephone engineers would be in the road, and please would we accommodate Sergeant McIver for a day or two until things quietened down. Within hours the Post Office engineers' tent was on the pathway and a tough looking young man, in sweater and joggers with an overlarge sports bag turned up looking like a boatie friend of Francis and Grunty. Safar and Khaled were primed this time - it was a neighbouring state and anything might happen. I think it was only then they realised to what extent how circumspect and restrictive in a way their lives had been. I had explained to Khaled all those years ago when he wanted to go to London to study that his safety there could not be guaranteed and he understood. I sat with them in my study now and told them as much as I could - Lachs had said I should give them the full story of their kidnap and the fate of their captors and of the machinations of the ruling people of the state. It was then that Lachs let slip that the two women had been given to the local barracks for the use of the soldiers and both had killed themselves within a couple of weeks having been raped almost continuously. That would not be told, nor the details that Flea had given me about the mutilation of the men. All I said was that the perpetrators had been punished. Khaled, at least, knew what I meant.
Sergeant McIver, Johnny, was a character. From the west coast of Scotland he had that soft burr of an accent. We found he was told to join up at sixteen, or face youth custody after joy-riding, and he'd made the Army his career and the Marines his home. He was now twenty-seven, just a few months older than Francis. He and the lads got on so well he was invited to come and stay whenever he had leave. Francis after only five minutes with him told me he would keep him occupied whenever necessary. He winked, "Definitely!" he said. So Francis gained another companion to set beside Ibrahim, who was overwhelmed with all the activity at the Embassy, and on a couple of evenings when the engineers gave the all clear took him off for a drink at the local pub..... I hoped Tony was in agreement. Mr McIntyre did comment about the continual need for the Post Office to deal with a deteriorating telephone service and he couldn't see it getting any better if we joined the Europeans and anyway there was a woman now in charge of the Conservative party..... I nodded and agreed. I'd always found that best, especially when he started to advise me on the state of my garden.
I did ask Francis if Johnny had consulted him yet, as the resident doctor, on the best cure for haemorrhoids. I got an old-fashioned look, then a wicked grin and "There's always hope!". That was engendered by a joke James had come out with as a very young teenager about a man who went to the doctor with piles and had been given some cream and told to apply it. The man said he didn't know how too so the doctor told him to drop his trousers and pants and bend over and then he put both hands on the man's shoulders and the man said, 'Gosh, that's soothing'.... James said all the boys, older than him it transpired, had all laughed then, and was that the whole joke? Francis had gone bright red at the time and told James to 'Shut it'. James, for once, had taken the hint and did. Later that evening there were screams of laughter from upstairs and the mention of haemorrhoids in the household always set James off in fits of giggles.
I think the ticket office at the Opera House must have been overwhelmed by the number of seats we booked on one application. The Grand Tier had the whole Thomson tribe, friends, relations and hangers-on for that marvellous May evening. >From the first chords of the Prokofiev score conducted by Tim Parker we knew we were in for a great treat. Jody as Tybalt almost brought the house down with his swaggering dances in the First Act as he quarrelled with Romeo and his friends. Stephen as Romeo looked the complete young Veronese gentleman in his well-tailored costume and short cloak with his sword by his side. Even in the later scenes when he tried to get into the Capulets' house he showed by his actions that he was a cut above even his suave companions, Mercutio and Benvolio.
Lisa looked so young as Juliet, she could have been the twelve-year-old of the story. In that first meeting with Romeo there was such an air of electric attraction in the way they approached each other. Lisa so shy, coy but knowing, and Stephen, merely by gesture and simple steps, conveying his awe and his sudden enchantment, as a fully sexually aware lad of fourteen, by that beautiful young girl as Mercutio tried hard to distract him. Jody again as Tybalt showed an imperious streak as he ordered him to leave the house.
In the Second Act after the marriage ceremony came the fights with spirited swordplay. Mercutio was killed by Tybalt and then Romeo takes on Tybalt and runs him through. As the sword fight concluded so Tim produced those fifteen thunderous chords from the orchestra, each sounding more and more menacing and final, and Tybalt died. As Stephen had said all those years ago about his own performance as a mouse, 'he died convincingly'.
We saw the stature of the pair of young dancers develop as the story unfolded so that they appeared mature beyond their years within the intricate ramifications of the story, especially for Juliet, as she succumbed to her father's wishes to marry Paris. Paris was a very comely young man, whose shapely thighs matched Jody's and whose bulge seemed even more prominent and had Francis peering through his opera glasses each time he appeared with a nudge from Ibrahim who wanted to borrow them. His dancing had a real air of authority. I noted in the programme his name was Peter DeLisle. Someone else to watch out for in the future.
In the final pages of the score, where Romeo sees the apparently dead Juliet on the bier, his final throes in the grips of the poisoned draught, after killing Paris, were heart- rending. Juliet's own death on waking and finding the inert bodies of the pair was simple theatre but so, so, effectively performed.
Not only the Grand Tier went wild as the last notes faded away but there was such prolonged applause the curtain calls were still going on as we all filed out to make our way backstage. The attendants had been primed, as usual, that 'family were in'.
What a family! At last there was a final curtain call. Tim Parker turned and rushed to me and gave me the greatest hug, nearly stabbing me, a la Tybalt, with his conductor's baton. "That lad. He'll go far. In fact the three of them will!"
The three were hugged, congratulated, complimented, praised. It took James to bring a little sanity and a huge burst of laughter into the proceedings as he looked at his brother in his gold and white costume with short jacket and white tights with the usual male dancer's conspicuous bulge. "You're much too well-hung for a fourteen-year-old," he said, looking at him below the midriff. He shook his head. "You'd better get Francis to see to that before the next performance and then you can wear this again." He held up the dance-belt which must have belonged to a ten-year-old, purloined or 'borrowed' by Stephen, and given to James that Christmas all those years ago.
On Saturday August the Second Stephen and Lisa were married, with Jody as best man, and Jody's companion-to-be-for-life, Peter DeLisle, was one of the ushers with Stephen's other four brothers.
"'The tumult and the shouting dies; the Captains and the Kings depart'" quoted Anne as we arrived back in Cambridge after the wedding. It had to take place in London at the Kensington and Chelsea Register Office as it seemed as if half of theatrical, or balletic, London wanted to attend. There was a huge reception with streams of guests bearing gifts, congratulations and best wishes for the future.
A week before the ceremony Stephen and Lisa had been home going over details with Anne and Ina McIntyre. As usual, when important things were in the air, I had retreated to my study. Stephen came back from next door. He peered round the door. I was shuffling papers around.
"Can we talk?" he asked, very seriously, then he began to giggle.
"Not you too?" I said, guessing.
He rushed over and flung his arms round me as he had done so many times before. "I've caught the Thomson bug!" he almost deafened me with his shout.
We just held on to each other and laughed. That sort of laugh where love and warmth and great affection are mingled. My Stephen, my adopted son but so, so, close.
"When is it due?" I managed to gasp as I got my breath back.
"Middle of February!"
I counted. Middle of May. The performance.
He sat and held my hand as he said they'd already announced they were getting married before then to some of their friends in the Company - we'd heard the day after the performance. That night, the four of them, he, Lisa, Jody and Peter had gone to stay at the Kensington flat with Ma and Pa. He and Lisa had gone to bed together for the first time and that was when it happened. The same night Jody and Peter decided that their friendship had developed into love and they had slept together, quite chastely, according to Jody's account to Stephen. In one night four lives had been settled and another had begun. Lisa's mum had guessed as she had been sick on a visit home and they were telling Anne at the moment.
We were sitting there when Safar appeared. There were more noisy congratulations and the promise not to set tongues wagging. How he kept silent until after the ceremony we didn't know.
After the wedding Jody and Peter came back with us as they had three weeks off before rehearsals started again. As we entered the house after Anne's quotation she turned to Jody.
"Take your's and Peter's bags up to the big guest room." She turned to Peter. "I don't know whether you're son or son-in-law now but this is your home too!" She kissed him as he blushed.
There were tears all round - of joy and happiness, with Khaled and Safar, very meaningfully saying they would miss sharing with Jody; Safar saying mainly because he was such a fidget in bed, always tossing and turning. There was a certain emphasis on the word 'tossing' and it was Jody's turn to redden, but only slightly, as the look of happiness on Peter's face was such we knew that Jody was well-known for his fidgeting.
The next morning I'd had breakfast in a very quiet house and was in my study. After some time Safar peeked in, put his finger to his lips and beckoned me out. As we went into the corridor he whispered he'd been down and prepared tea and toast and marmalade for the pair. As he was carrying the tray he didn't knock but went in. He smiled. "Come on, but be quiet!"
The door to the big guest room was open and we entered quite silently. It had been a warm night and the two sleeping figures showed this. Both were nude and didn't even have a sheet over them. They lay, facing each other, foreheads touching, Jody's damp red locks were almost tangled with Peter's equally damp, but lustrous, brown hair which fell forward over his face. Jody had a protective arm under Peter's neck and over his back. They slept so soundly, their beautifully sculpted, well-defined torsos moving in synchrony with their slow steady breathing. There wasn't an ounce of fat on them and their muscular stomachs rose and fell also in time with their breathing. It was noticeable that both had shaved away most of their pubic hair which made their drooping uncircumcised penises look quite massive on their slim bodies. Their foreskins were slightly retracted and the dark pink of their ends contrasted with the very white skin of Jody and the darker, almost brown hue of Peter's lengthy young cock. They lay so peacefully like two young Greek gods, or a veritable Castor and Pollux.
There was ample evidence why they were sleeping so heavily and so late.
That night they had fully consummated their love for each other in all ways we could but assume. There were traces of that love nestling amongst the hairs left on their bellies and there was copious further evidence on the towels which were tucked under them. I reached out and took Safar's hand. We looked at each other and smiled. I leaned over the couple and tenderly kissed each, very gently, on the forehead. Then Safar did the same. Both smiled in their sleep. We turned to leave them to rest knowing that love, trust, affection and attachment had been attained fully that night. As we stood there we didn't realise that Khaled had been watching us. He went to the other side of the bed and planted his kisses of welcome and brotherhood as well.
It must have been near enough one o'clock when I was in the kitchen with Khaled and Safar, with Khaled cutting sandwiches for lunch and Safar making a big jug of Pimm's and sneering at me, baiting me to say something about alcohol, when the two 'star-crossed lovers' appeared, shirtless, in pairs of running shorts purloined from Francis's collection. They both looked so happy and kept looking at each other. Jody couldn't contain himself. He flung an arm round Peter's shoulder. He spoke to me but the others were included.
"Oh Dad!" he enthused, "We've both had the most wonderful dream. It was just like that time when I was at Ulvescott and the boy said I had to dance as that was my life. We both dreamt that we were blessed together with kisses of love. Can Peter come to Ulvescott as well?"
Peter nodded. "True! And we're so much in love I can't believe it." He smiled at us. "And the way you've accepted me into your family." He shook his head. "I'm overwhelmed! It's taken my mum and dad five years to accept me as I am and you all did it in five seconds!"
We kept our peace. We three knew not to say anything. The sight of those two bodies in loving repose would be an enduring memory for all three of us. In fact, Safar said to me some weeks later he had stored away that memory as being one of the most beautiful things he'd ever seen.
But, as Khaled indicated a plate for the two loaded with food, Safar looked at me, then turned to the pair with a very serious air.
"Didn't hear you two doing class this morning," he said with all the gravity that only Safar could muster.
The pair looked at each other, rather guiltily.
"Thought we'd give it a miss this morning. All the excitement yesterday. Needed to sleep," said Jody rather hesitantly.
I looked across their heads at Safar, who knew exactly what extra excitements needed extra sleep. He looked from one to the other. "Tomorrow morning then. Light breakfast at eight and then in my and Stephen's room at nine. The barre's in there, Peter, I don't suppose Jody's shown you yet. And make certain it's the full routine."
The pair looked at each other again. "Of course," said Jody.
- The Lost Soul
Khaled enjoyed his job at the finance house very much. He'd earned himself some quite substantial bonuses from the canny way he'd played the market. He shrugged his shoulders when asked how he did it. "Sometimes you win and sometimes you lose. You have to keep your head and try to back up your hunches. Luck and good judgment."
However, he wasn't too happy with some of the Governmental policies and when inflation hit 26.9% in the second week of August he spent many extra hours in the office. Whether he was also being more watchful after the earlier scare he did say he'd noticed a young chap, who was obviously a down-and-out, sitting on the pavement in our road several days running. Just in case, I 'phoned Lachs and he said he was nothing to do with him. If we saw a strange window-cleaner's van the next couple of days they would be keeping the vagrant under observation.
Then Safar spotted him and said he seemed familiar and also he judged under the dirt and tatters he wasn't all that old, not out of his teens. He'd actually given the lad a pound and said he'd had rather a glazed look. He wondered if he was on drugs or had been. He looked half-starved anyway. Lachs reported that he was unknown and the pseudo-window-cleaners went elsewhere.
It all came to a head a couple of days later. A neighbour up the road had a most aggressive terrier bitch who had gone for the flapping, torn trouser leg of the lad as he stood at the corner and had ended up biting him. The neighbour was distraught and, knowing that Francis was a doctor, who, of course, was making one of his frequent calls at home for extra food, rushed along worrying that someone would call the police and have her dear little dog put down. As she quietened the dog and dragged it off, just before it would have got a well- deserved kick up the rear from me, Francis went up to the lad who was sitting holding his ankle and sobbing quietly. I went along, too, just as Francis was questioning him and trying to get him to take his very dirty, unwashed hand away from the wound. Gosh, the poor lad stank and his body was so thin I just wondered what was holding him together. I also thought he was familiar in some way and then noticed as he took his hand away from his ankle that he had a very small tattoo of a butterfly on the skin between his thumb and first finger of his right hand. I knew who it was.
I helped Francis stand him up and we half carried him back to the house. He wouldn't come in so Francis sat him on a chair in the garden and proceeded to clean the wound as best he could while I went to the telephone. I 'phoned Kanga in London and very quietly said we'd found his son.
Tristan, an only child, had been very shy and retiring. I worked out he must be near enough eighteen now. He'd gone to a very good independent school in Hampstead, was doted on by Kanga and Audrey, and had taken his GCSEs more than a year earlier than usual. He'd started in the Sixth Form when he was barely fifteen and somehow had been enticed into trying drugs. It had started with cannabis and he's been suspended from school. Two so- called friends of his had been found with cocaine and were prosecuted and it was thought he had got involved as well. When he was sixteen he had disappeared. Runaway kids are so common in London the police said that they could do little. Even Lachs said it would be difficult to find him if he was determined to hide.
He had visited us once when he was about ten and our lot were all in their teens, boisterous and rowdy I suppose to a boy living with quiet parents in a large mansion flat in Torrington Place near University College and attending, at the time, a small private school off Goodge Street somewhere. I remember he watched the antics with a quiet reserve. There was no harm in our lot they were just full of teenage hormones and energy. As Lachs put it after one visit - rowing, rugger, masturbation and arguing, just like school in his day. But Tristan had returned. Was this some way of trying to make contact?
Francis said he would ring the hospital and have him admitted. He was really very weak and as far as Francis could make out had existed for the past week on some scraps of food he'd found in a bin at the back of the pub at the end of the road and some sandwiches a kind neighbour had given him. Francis wanted to examine him properly but he needed to be cleaned up first. I offered to drive him to the hospital and at last we coaxed him into the back of the car with Francis and Mrs McIntyre almost holding him down. He was agitated which Francis said could be a sign he was coming down from being on drugs. He'd need tests to see what.
That evening Safar and I went to see him. He was in bed in a separate room with a drip and was sleeping. Francis came along in his white coat and said they'd found he'd had some heroin about a week ago but he wasn't used to it so there must have been an adverse reaction. He'd asked a nurse where he was and was rather puzzled when she said Cambridge. As we sat by his bed Kanga came in looking so sad and so relieved. He took one look. "It's Tristan," he said and burst into tears. I lead him out and we sat in the waiting room while Safar sat by Tristan's bedside and talked softly to him and held his hand.
Kanga stayed the night with us and we went early in the morning to see Tristan again. He was more awake now but was still dehydrated and lacked any energy. I left father and son together. Kanga said Audrey was beside herself. She had almost given up any hope of seeing her son again. There were so many stories of addicts being found dead she had lived in fear that her son might be a statistic one day.
We promised Kanga that we, and Francis, especially, would look after him. That evening Francis told us that as far as they could make out Tristan hadn't become an addict. He had the remnants of a few punctures in his arms but not sufficient to cause concern. His main problem was that he was starved. Francis then said it was obvious he had earned money to live in the only way possible for a runaway teen. He was starving because it was clear he would need some reconstructive surgery to his anus and rectum and couldn't have stood another insertion without great pain and he probably wasn't getting enough giving blow-jobs especially in the dreadful state he was in. As Francis delicately put it, "Who would want their cock sucked by a derelict?"
Tristan was in Addenbrooke's for a week and then he came and stayed with us. Kanga and Audrey came too for the weekend but Francis's advice was to let him get used to us first. He was very listless and tired to begin with but gradually with good food and the quieter company he revived. It was Safar in his quiet way who got his story from him. In the evenings they sat and talked or just sat together. To begin with we put him in the small spare room but after a couple of days he moved into Safar's room and shared his bed. Safar said nothing was happening between them, it was just for company as Tristan couldn't really sleep alone as he woke up distressed. In any case, as well as the other surgery needed, his penis and foreskin had been mangled in some way and Francis said he would require to be circumcised as well.
He said he still didn't know how he got to Cambridge. He thought he must have hitched a lift and some long-stored memory had led him from the city centre out to us. He had been living rough for some months after a man who had taken him in had chucked him out when he wouldn't take part in any more orgies where the man's friends dressed up in outlandish costumes. He said to Safar it all came to a head when he'd been fucked by the man and six of his friends one night and he'd been forced to give them all blow-jobs first. In the end they'd tied him to a bed and fucked him so many times he'd passed out. That was when the damage was done. We took him back to Addenbrooke's and he had both sets of procedures done in sequence. Under his shyness he had a good sense of humour and said he felt wrapped up for Christmas and stuffed like a turkey. A bandage round his dick and a mass of gauze up inside him as well.
We brought him home and he stayed for Christmas and the New Year. Jem and Sam then took him over and with Lucius keeping an eye on him he was installed in a room in the house in De Freville Avenue and was enrolled in the Hills Road College to take his A levels. The students in the house adopted him as a mascot and though they were predominantly gay Tristan wasn't. He was an example to them where things could go wrong. He blossomed as he relaxed and found he didn't have to compete and Lucius even taught him to play the flute, so another lost soul became attached to our menagerie!
- 1976
On February the Fourteenth, St Valentine's Day, Andrew Francis James Cameron Thomson was born in the early evening. Lisa was booked into Addenbrooke's Rosie Maternity Wing so we all trooped in the next afternoon. Stephen was breathless with pride. Jody and Peter were there as well and had brought all the flowers the cast had received the previous night as well as two packs of multi-coloured condoms with the best wishes of the boys in the company. While we were there a telephone call came from James and Diane in Chester. James, of course, wanted to know why the poor child was saddled with four names when he'd been content with three each for his own pair. After that remark was relayed to us Stephen put on his own imperious voice and said that he should know that his own uncle had taken Stephen's father as his own son and had bestowed the honourable name of Thomson on him. He was proud to bear the name Cameron Thomson and if his son was a bit top-heavy in names he could always remove the James. For once, I think James was silenced. Then Stephen said, with his giggle, "Only joking, bro, he's got to have the lot!"
Several things happened in a hurry over the next few months. Firstly, Uncle Lester March died of some unspecified ailment with 'pneumonia' on the death certificate and Tony had to fly out suddenly to arrange the funeral and deal with the lawyers. Then, because of the national financial crisis with interest rates and so on, the hotel chain that leased Ashburn House asked for the lease to be rescinded on payment of a goodly sum. This was a godsend as Messrs Grabbit and Runne, as we called our solicitors in Kerslake, were able to offer Ashburn House on a substantial lease to the Trustees of the American university. The Duchess was agreeable and at over eighty now said the lease would revert to a musical charity when she died.
Chuck flew over immediately to finalise the deal bringing Brad the Third, still sixteen stone, muscular and as gay as possible and deposited him in Francis's grateful lap for an extended stay. At least, James said, when he came down at Easter and slapped Brad on the back in greeting and held his hand in mock pain, he hoped Brad was kind to his elderly brother and said Francis had never really got the hang of that double leg twist and full submission or whatever Brad called it and was itching to practice it all again. As Johnny McIver was also on leave I dreaded to think what a combined thirty stone might do to my lanky son Francis's body if they tried a few joint wrestling moves on him. Something worse than carpet burns? Francis seemed to thrive on it, though. Brad stayed on and moved into the house with him and Tony. He signed up for unspecified courses but seemed to spend a lot of his time working-out with the boaties and keeping a certain smile on Francis's face.
Thirdly, on a weekend visit where even he looked pale and wan, Sayed said he was giving up the Ambassadorship. He was thoroughly fed up with all the jockeying for position amongst his quarrelsome relations so he would look for a nice quiet country estate in England and live the life of an English gentleman and they could stick..... I laughed and said he was already more English than the English and the grand idea struck me. Ulvescott Manor! He knew some of the story so when I just said the two words, Ulvescott Manor, he smiled and said "Perfect".
My telephone bill was going to be astronomical as I had to 'phone Tony almost daily with news and get instructions and agreements. He said Uncle Lester had made a very comprehensive Will and, as long as their own versions of Sue, Grabbit and Runne in the States didn't start quibbling, about thirty of Uncle Lester's retired little helpers would each get a hundred thousand dollars each, another twenty fifty thousand each, and the final four, Beef, Tex, Neils the Swede and Nick were in the running for five hundred thousand each. Not only that, Paul and Alistair had impressed the old boy so much with their industry and hard work they were getting fifty thousand each. I whistled, and being a mathematician manque, did a quick calculation. "That's over six million dollars!" I said.
"And there's the rest!" said Tony with a laugh. "Uncle Lester knew that money grows money and he made some very wise investments. Those pool parties paid off. He got plenty of hot tips - and I don't mean what you're thinking!" He had a fit of the giggles and spoke to someone in the background. "I'll have to ring back. There's someone from some American Museum of Art waving a huge cheque so I'm told."
When he rang back I found the museum was interested only in Uncle Lester's own sketches and drawings for the films and stage shows. There were literally hundreds, probably thousands of these that the boys had sorted into portfolios and they could be used as a tax deductible asset if donated to the museum. They were valued at some astronomical sum and I was totally bemused by all the noughts the Americans seemed always to be speaking about. Of course, they called noughts zeroes but it all came to the same thing!
Tony flew back home and when he came to report on progress he handed me a piece of paper. He said he'd brought it over tucked in a copy of the Los Angeles News or something. He winked and said it was mine for all I'd done for the family. He didn't like it. It was the Picasso drawing. He had decided it was probably a bull in full pursuit of some luckless matador. The most discernible bit of the sketch might be the gigantic bollocks swinging back. At least that was also the considered opinion of Francis and Khaled when they looked at the scribble and had a learned discussion about it. Francis said it was like a Rorschach Inkblot Test where you had to say what you saw. Safar said it was more likely to be a back view of Grunty, rushing down the pitch and scoring a try having had his shorts split, like in that game against Bedford School. It was pointed out that Grunty and Picasso had never met and why did he think it was him anyway. Safar said his were just like melons, then blushed and said he'd just done a James. Jody and Peter were giggling over it and Jody said the lot of them were just like the bloke who went to a psychologist for tests to see if he was suitable for a job. He was shown a triangle and asked to say what he thought it was. He said it was a rude picture. The psychologist then showed him a circle and he said that was pornographic. On the third attempt he said a square reminded him of a centrefold in Playboy magazine. The psychologist said he'd never met anyone so obsessed by sex. The chap said "What about you mate, you're the one showing me all the dirty pictures!".
All in all, as Tony was the main residual beneficiary it turned out he inherited a very large sum of money. Before the British tax man could get his fingers on it he bought a villa in the South of France and announced he would spend six months of the year there and Francis was going to do a course in France so he could practise as a doctor there as well. Uncle Lester had also included all my six in the Will so with luck and the help of a good tax consultant they wouldn't be too hard up.
Tony said that the four lads were devastated about Uncle Lester's death but what was very worrying was that two seemed to have caught some bug. He said Tex and Beef were both losing weight and were getting listless and lethargic. Some of their friends were complaining too of similar symptoms. He'd instructed the attorneys to sell off the houses in Beverly Hills and Los Angeles and the four lads, with the Porto Rican boy who was looking after Beef and Tex mainly, would be living at the Florida house as long as they liked. Of course, any of us could visit whenever.
Sayed took over the lease of Ulvescott Manor in November with the intention of giving up his post in January and moving into a further refurbished Manor before Easter. His trusted assistant Walid, with his bodyguard and driver, would also be in residence and we were all invited to keep him company whenever we felt like it. The best thing for Khaled was that Iyad would be brought over and cared for there probably later in the year.
Safar started his third year writing up the first chapters of his thesis. He'd got bogged down over translating a very old document in ancient Spanish and Arabic and had to wait for it to be done for him as Ma had struggled but the archaisms were very technical and Safar's actual knowledge of Arabic was very rudimentary. But he was busy practising and we arranged for Johnny McIver to accompany him to London to take his organ exams. They stayed at the flat in Kensington as the Royal College of Organists building was just across the road. They must have shared a room as I heard Safar on the 'phone to Francis when he returned. ".....And you're right, Francis...." Then came the usual giggle. "....from tiny acorns mighty oaks grow..... Wow!" I had wondered why the stay had been extended from the expected three days to five! Ma did say she thought Johnny was a very personable young man. Safar added ARCO to his BA and LRAM.
- 1977
Just before Easter Safar said he was very pleased about the way his thesis was going now. He'd completed his analytical chapters and was now writing up conclusions and would present it during the Summer Term. He'd wandered along to my study and although he seemed guileless with these remarks, which I knew anyway, I guessed there was more to just telling me all that.
"Dad," he at last was going to get something off his chest. I knew by the way he said that one word. "D'you think I could ask someone....." He looked at me, his brown eyes wide open. "....Dad, I'd better tell you. There's one of the librarians. She's ever so nice. D'you think I could invite her to supper one night?"
"Why don't you just ask her and take her out for a meal?"
He bit his lip. "I'm shy about it. Well, she's white..... ....and I'm not."
"Safar don't be silly. If she likes you and you like her what difference will that make? It's never made any difference to anything else, has it?"
He shook his head. "It's not just that. I'm supposed to be a Muslim but I don't think I am really. I don't know anything about it. And Khaled's not much help, he says he just remembers bits of the Koran they made him learn but that's all and that's all hazy. He just laughed and said as far as he knew we both got the chop to mark us out, but so did Leo Weinstein at school. He was Jewish but he said his parents didn't go to synagogue. So I don't really know anything. What happens if she asks me?"
"That's a question which might get asked later," I said. "Why don't you ask Ludo. He'll know all about religions. I'm afraid I don't know anything." I smiled. "You know quite well we took on two scraps of humanity and never asked any questions about whether you were green, blue or striped or whether you were C of E, R.C, Rastafarian or Hindu." He laughed. I went on. "You were two naked little pagans in the bath as far as I was concerned when I saw all of you first. The only difference between you and Cally and the others around here as far as I know, having inspected the lot of you either voluntarily or compulsorily many times before and since then, is you and your brother tan a bit more easily and you pinch your Mum's hand lotion now when you run out of your own!"
"Dad!" he said, bursting into a fit of the giggles, "James is right. You know everything. How do you know about the hand lotion?"
"Safar, most English boys know the difference between Old Spice and Brut and drench themselves in one or the other on Saturday evenings, think James, but there are very few who keep two bottles of Boots best hand lotion tucked away on the top of their bedside cabinets." I winked at him. "That bit of extra makes it unnecessary!"
He roared. "Don't tell me!..... James and the others have teased me enough..... Whoops, Safar, you've done a James!"
He looked at me studiously. "I know it's not what I wanted to ask you but are all boys like us?"
"Safar you're twenty-four and you're asking me that! Are you asking whether boys were the same when I was young?"
He nodded.
"You've read the book?" He nodded. "I expect James told you about the diaries" He nodded again. "And who instructed Grunty?" 'Tiger' he murmured. "Well, that's quite a few generations, so as far as I know, boys have always been the same. It's in their nature. Now tell me about the librarian, and she's coming to supper on Saturday if you ask her. I'll arrange it with Anne and we'll ban the others!" I laughed. "Ibrahim's going to be at Tony's and I don't suppose you want father to hear anything yet and Brad, and I expect Tris, will be with them. I know, what about Thingy, the organist...." I could never remember his name.... I remembered. A Welsh lad. "...Lewis. He's got a girlfriend because I've seen him with her...."
He smiled. "Yes, she's in the Graduate Office. She's nice, too."
"Right," I said, "Dinner for six. No, nine, Jody and Peter will be here and I forgot your brother." I laughed. "They'll behave. Anne'll arrange for Nick to do it. He owes us a dinner. And we can have a couple of bottles of the wine from Ulvescott! That is, if you can force it down, I know Khaled will.."
"Dad! Stop it. Father likes a drop, too. You know he does. And so do Ibrahim and Walid."
"Well it might be a way for questions not to be asked. By the way, what's her name? We'd better know that or it could be embarrassing for some ancient old don to ask 'And you're Miss....? Do you come here often?" I had put on a wavery voice.
"Dad", he said, looking much more relaxed, "Stop taking the mickey. You're not ancient... yet! Anyway, she's Charlotte Holmes and Lew's girlfriend is Cressida...., Cressida Grosvenor. They both know you because they both took French Subsid and..." He laughed. "....and Cressy says all the girls used to sit in the front row at your lectures because they thought you were tall, dark and handsome.... Dad, you mustn't say anything, will you?"
"I'll see. Tall, dark and handsome, you say? I'll tell your Mum that!"
He laughed. "She knows!"
"And what about Charlotte?"
He was getting expansive now - a lovesick swain from the enthusiastic tone of his voice. "She read music. She was at Girton. That's why she's in the music library. She plays the cello and Cressy plays the oboe...."
"....And have you played any duets yet?"
He looked at me, pouted and stuck his lips out. "If I think what you mean is... the answer's no!"
"So, all other procreative demands have passed you by, too." I knew from Lachs that Safar's duties were not required.
He snickered, then looked serious. "They only made Khaled do it because he was the eldest son. Ibrahim told me I've been crossed off any lists. With father leaving I'm a nobody as far as they are concerned. It doesn't worry me. Ibrahim said they'll make me an allowance, but I'd rather earn my living. That is, if I can. And it's alright for Khaled coming. I told him and he knows."
To be Continued:................