Mystery and Mayhem At St Mark's
by
Joel
Some of the Characters Appearing: Mark Henry Foster The storyteller Tristan (Tris) Price-Williams His well-proportioned boyfriend Francis Michael [Microbe] Foster Alias Toad James Bowes-Chesterton Frankie's pal Bozo Patrick Montgomery Frankie's pal Moggo Anthony Pugsley A muscly friend of Toad and Shelley
- News From All Fronts
I went home when term ended and worked steadily at all the Maths which seemed never- ending. Tris came home on the Friday before Christmas. Mum and Dad were appearing in a concert and decided they would stay up in town for the night. For some reason, the Price- Williams, with Shelley but not Tris, had elected to brave the strictures of Uncle Nick's father and went up to see him and his wife for the weekend 'as a Christmas treat', staying in a hotel as life in the big house they inhabited would be Spartan at the least. Frankie said he was going to a party Friday evening, unspecified, so I was left to entertain Tris when he arrived. I hadn't seen him for nearly a fortnight so my sexual needs, and I was also glad to find his as well, were very great. We had an early supper and just about dragged each other to bed casting off our clothing on the way.
We finally emerged from our night's activity at about ten on Saturday morning and after a quick shit, shower, shampoo and shave we were ready for food. We were both starving hungry as plenty of energy had been expended during a very busy night and early morning. Even so after dressing, there was still time for a quick hug and a kiss before we went downstairs to prepare a substantial breakfast.
As we got to the kitchen there was Frankie. The usual heaped plate of mixed cereals was in front of him and as he turned to greet us there was a wild gleam in his eye, as well as the mouthful of Rice Crispies, Golden Grahams and Frosties which prevented him from saying anything as he chewed steadily. He just curled his upper lip having detected from our lateness evidence, perhaps, of our extended night and morning exertions.
I sat and Tris went to the fridge. "You OK, Microbe?" Tris asked.
No greeting until he'd emptied his mouth. Good boy! A big swallow.
"Couldn't be better," he enthused, "I can announce I'm not a virgin any more! WOW! PPPPRAGH!!!......" These strange sounds of utter jubilation were accompanied by the emphatic raising of the lower half and balled fist of his left arm and the biceps thumped heavily by his right fist in the universal gesture of sexual triumph. Explanations were imminent. "Wow, she's the au pair at Moggo's! She's nineteen and he says he's been dicking her for weeks. Says she can't get enough and he thinks his Dad's been having a go, too. Oh, yeah, she was all for it! She was all over us as soon as we got there. The little kids were in bed and his Step-Mum and Dad are away for the weekend. We had a couple more bevvies, vodka or something this time, and Moggo said we could have a turn."
He sniggered. "Bozo was too wasted so I went up to Moggo's room with her and WOW!! I was in up to me elbows. She's Russian and what she was saying I don't know, but we'd hardly got undressed when she was on her back and grabbing my dick and as soon as I got going she was jerking her hips at me. Fucking Hell, it was more like she was humping me!!" He shook his head. "Didn't last long but second time was better...! WOW!!" He was sitting back on his chair and thrusting his pelvis forward and back in remembrance. "Fucking Moggo came and watched the second time and sprayed us both!! Fucking dickhead couldn't wait!!"
I sat rather gobsmacked by the recital of these events. The losing of his virginity had been a prime concern for ages. OK, he'd lost it in rather a dramatic way, especially being watched the second time. Bozo, Moggo! Oh yes, his old skateboarding mates.
The picture of Moggo shooting his load was priceless. But.........?
"Did you have protection? And you said Bozo was wasted. Had you been taking anything?" I asked quietly. Little brothers, even at seventeen, needed protecting, whatever.
He looked over at me, the usual Toad's sneer on his face. "You don't wear a fucking overcoat on a hot day, do you? And this was fucking hot!! And, anyway, Bozo's his own boss!"
Tris, who had been watching the performance intently from his position by the fridge saw the look of horror on my face and strode over to Francis. I had read and heard of taking puppies or miscreants by the scruff of their neck. I had never experienced it until then. Tris took hold of Francis by the top of the tee-shirt he was wearing and grabbed his upper arm. Big though he was, Francis was lifted up from where he was sitting.
"Come with me!" Tris's voice was harsh and the command was unconditional. Francis was propelled out of the kitchen into the front room and I heard the door slam shut. I was aware of raised voices.
I sat and a thousand things raced through my mind. OK, OK, the little fool was going to do the deed some day! But, not wearing a johnny and doing it with someone who was being fucked by Moggo, probably Moggo's Dad, and shit knows who else? I assumed she was on the pill as she'd obviously been putting it around more than a bit, but visions of having to take my seventeen-year-old brother to the Special Treatment Clinic loomed. I'd seen the large signs directing the unwary, unfortunate, or the really stupid, to the long low hut a good few yards away from the main building of our local hospital. Oh, God! The really stupid. What do I tell Mum and Dad? Your younger son's just had jabs for clap, syph, chlamydia, unspecified pox... ...and he's got a ginormous herpes sore on the end of his rather over-developed, over-used prick...! All my fault for letting him roam free and not slipping a packet of three in his wallet! Oh my God! What if? What if it was anything worse? HIV made my blood run cold. And he'd said Bozo was wasted! He'd never answered my question of what he'd been taking himself.
My brooding was cut short. A tearful Frankie came slowly into the room followed by a glowering Tris. Frankie came and fell to his knees beside me and the tears came freely as he put his head on my leg. I instinctively put an arm round his shoulder as he sniffed. He put his hand in his jeans pocket and drew out a packet of three and tipped a lonely, single, foiled condom onto my other hand.
"Sorry for upsetting you," he said very quietly, "I couldn't help saying that. I did wear something both times. That's why she grabbed my dick. She put them on me. She wouldn't do it otherwise." He looked up at me. His enchanting dark eyes stared up into mine. I loved my beautiful young brother and he knew I'd been hurt. I stroked his head. He pressed his head back against my hand as if to get more contact. "It was incredible," he said, "She knew what to do and I felt I wasn't a little boy any longer." He shook his head at the remembrance of the wonderfulness of it all, then smiled as I smiled down at him. "You'll forgive me and we hadn't smoked or taken anything. Moggo's dead against it anyway and so am I. We'd had a couple of drinks at Bozo's and he can't hold it and when Moggo gave him the vodka as well, he was way out of it. I only had one lot of that and it's certainly fiery." He grinned. "Didn't do me any harm, though!"
I lifted him up and we stood together and I hugged him tight. "Now you know what it's like it'll be a thousand times better when you find someone you can love."
He nuzzled my cheek. "Thanks, I don't know what I would do without you and Tris." He turned to Tris. "Sorry. I upset you as well. Can I hug you, too?"
Tris put his arms out and the pair stood, heads on each other's shoulders, their cheeks gently rubbing together and stroking each other's backs. Tris then held Frankie a bit away from him as they parted. "I suppose you'll be a source of trouble always, Microbe. You always have been and you always will be, but..." He drew him up close again and kissed him full on the lips. The kiss lingered as Frankie slightly opened his mouth and kept his face quite still.
"You'll always be there for me, won't you?" Frankie asked as they parted and he looked from Tris to me. "I open my big mouth and it just pops out!"
"If you open your big mouth one day something might just pop in," said Tris giving him a light smack on his tightly-jeaned backside and perhaps not remembering I'd told him about Frankie and Eddie...
"If it's that little thing you've got I might open it specially!" he said jumping away. He looked at me, the roguish twinkle now back. "You always say I've got a big mouth, I guess I'd be able to suck on two straws at once!" He stepped back and raised both hands. "No, no, only joking! Two macaroni tubes then!" As neither of us were rising to the bait, secure in the knowledge that our own mouths were well-stretched with just the single insertion of the other's prime-sized mortadella, he changed tack. He looked over at Tris. "You could do me two fried eggs and a bit of that bacon you'll be having. Man's gotta keep his strength up!"
Oh well, all alarms and excursions were over. The Toad was back and all's right with the world!
Tris took out the pack of eggs and the bacon from the fridge. As he bent to the cupboard to get out the frying-pan he turned to Frankie. "And what do your little pals call you?" he asked, "Not Gobbo by any chance?"
"How did you know?" a rather puzzled non-virginal Toad enquired.
There was silence from two non-virginal, in a different way, very satisfied elders and betters.
Of course, Frankie had to repeat his tale over mouthfuls of bacon and egg. We sat and listened dutifully, both thinking of that momentous occasion when we had first consummated our wonderful love for each other. That love which passed between us again, once, twice, three times last night and this morning.
As he finished the tale I put out a hand just as a forkfull was being raised. It remained suspended in mid-air. "That was just a start," I said, "You'll have the opportunity for many, many more occasions, but I can assure you once you find the right person to love it will be just right and you will know it straight away. You may share that love but it will come down to one person in the end."
"I know," he said, "I think you've found that with Tris and you must certainly have shared it with Ivo and Adam. And I think from the way Oliver and Zack look at you and talk to you there must be something there, too."
Tris came over and put an arm round him. "You're a very perceptive lad," he said and looked across and smiled at me. "True, we've shared our love with all four, but the truest love I have is for your brother. Last night I was able to tell him how much I've missed him the last fortnight or so. It's when you have love like that you know what heartache is, too. That's when it's true love."
"Perhaps one day you could share that love with me, too," he said simply and sincerely.
As we finished breakfast so Tris told him the news he'd broken to me last evening. Jacob had asked him if, after he finished his degree course, he would consider joining their firm of solicitors. He was being invited! He wouldn't have to apply and do the rounds of other firms if he wanted to be a solicitor. Jacob said he and Paul had been so impressed with the work he'd done they were willing also, not only to waive any fee for articles, but also to give him something towards Law School fees for the study required to qualify as a solicitor. There would be a vacancy as one of the junior partners was leaving in about a year's time to join a big firm in the City of London. He would be taken on as a trainee but with his ability he could become a junior partner quite quickly.
Tris had phoned his father and he had been very pleased and advised him not to have any second thoughts. It was an opportunity of a lifetime - just make sure you get as good a degree as you can. Dad would foot the rest of the bill for the Law School.
He had also given me a typed resume of the English ancestry of Simon Finch- Hampton which Paul Phillips' search agent had prepared from the records in London. Yes, his father was John Gratten, son of James Gratten and Caroline Mellier. John had been married three times. No children by the first two wives who had divorced him for 'infidelity' - that being the least offensive term for a string of affairs and misdemeanours listed in the Court hearings. Molly Finch, barmaid, wife number three, had insisted her surname was tacked on to the Gratten name. John was fifty when he married Molly and she had Simon about six weeks after the wedding. John was the last of the Grattens, who by all accounts were a very disliked lot in any case. A Hampton cousin took Simon in and he was as bad-tempered as his father had been, but also very clever. The only Mellier characteristic he had inherited, other than brains, was the birthmark.
Paul had also asked Safar Al-Hamed to ask his surrogate Dad, Dr Jacques Thomson, if he would consult his family tree. A second sheet of paper listed the relationship there. Clement Fontane, born in 1790, had a son, Jacques who was an ancestor of Dr Thomson, and a daughter, Marie, born in 1824, who married Jean-Baptiste Mellier. The name was there. The links down to Noelle and Caroline still to be filled in.
Three further interesting things came with the Christmas cards. Firstly, Charles said he'd found that the College had two 'dorters' in early times. One was exactly where my set was. The other was where a row of old stones marked out part of the left hand side of the grassed over portion of the quad. He said Jason was borrowing a metal detector to explore that second one as the cellar below my set was empty. When Tris read that he grinned. "It may not be," was his cryptic, in more ways than one, reply.
Secondly, there was a card from Adam. He wouldn't be home from America until, probably, the third week of January as he had been asked to give three lectures on events leading up to the First World War and could have a job teaching British History if he wanted. He thought he'd rather do his research first. Tris and I thought he might be missing Whippet a bit, too.
Thirdly, a card came from Dr Thomson. He said he'd been in touch with a cousin in Switzerland who sent the rest of the tree. Jean-Baptiste and Marie had a son, Jacques Mellier. He had a son, Phillippe, who was the father of the twins. Welcome to the family! There was a postscript. 'Twins and ?premature births are a feature.' Mum looked at Dad when she read this. "Better tell him when he's twenty-one he wasn't five weeks premature." I could swear Dad blushed before he guffawed.
As Gran was present at the time no more was said but Toad kept looking at me with a grin on his face. When we went up to bed that night he poked me in the back as we parted and I opened my bedroom door. "Always thought you were a bit of a bastard.... OK OK," he laughed and scurried off before I could grab him.
Among my presents were a couple of CDs from Gran. One was of the Second Symphony by Carl Nielsen, 'The Four Temperaments' and the other was of the Colour Symphony by Sir Arthur Bliss. She said she liked both and was always intrigued when there was a programme behind a composition. We had quite a discussion on this as so much of ancient ideas were based on groupings. The four temperaments, so Gran said, were the basis of medicine for many years, people were classified as choleric, phlegmatic, melancholic or sanguine. She said Nielsen wasn't the only composer to chose those as titles for movements, Paul Hindemith was another. Looking at the CD of the Colour Symphony I found the four movements were not only the colours Purple, Red, Blue and Green but were associated with gemstones and heraldry. Gran was a mine of information about all this type of symbolism and said it surprised her that composers had more or less ignored another basic set of ideas, that of the Four Elements, Earth, Air, Fire and Water. Dad had been listening in and said he thought Rameau and another French Baroque composer had used those as ideas for compositions. Again, as we were talking about all this something was ticking away in the back of my consciousness. Four elements? Four Temperaments? What?
On Boxing Day Auntie Di and Uncle Nick, with Mum and Dad, had a big party. Included were Pugsy and his parents. It was obvious Shelley was still smitten. Pugsy cornered Tris and me after we'd had a superb lunch. It might have been disguised turkey but Auntie Di had produced the most mouth-watering variations on a theme, nothing melancholic about it, perhaps a bit choleric in one dish, a hot, spicy curry. But turkey was not on Pugsy's mind - nor was it Shelley - he wanted to know if we knew what Cambridge was like for Engineering, he'd heard it was rated very highly. We said we didn't know but why didn't he apply anyway. He laughed and said that Frankie had said the same. He didn't want to stay in London and go to Imperial College or Brunel so he would see if Cambridge would have him. What about St Mark's? Well, Pugsy was a good lad so we praised up St Mark's and had to tell him our part in the finding of Aubrey Devereux which had been reported in a couple of the newspapers.
"Aren't you scared living there?" he asked as he, with Jack, Bozo and Moggo, Frankie's guests, listened in as we told the tale.
Frankie said he'd been scared about the rushing noise in the wall but we said that hadn't really been solved yet, but, no, the only thing that scared us was the thought that Frankie might be there as a student. "Don't blame you," said Bozo, "He scares me sometimes." He laughed. "I'm applying to Sussex, though, so I'll be far enough away from him. Only joking, mate!" he said as he got the Toad look which would have curdled the cream ready for the Christmas pudding.
I looked at Bozo and Moggo, James Bowes-Chesterton and Patrick Montgomery as I remembered them at school as smaller versions of the almost six-footers they were now. But now, Bozo wasted, and not getting his end away, and Moggo the serious fucker who graciously allowed my brother to lose his virginity, then sprinkled his boyish seed when overcome with the sight of the rutting pair. Handsome, very poised, neither would ever be denied a place in bed if they proved willing. The same with Pugsy, a little shorter but a real good looker.
I was helping Tris a little later to load Auntie Di's dishwasher. "When you're talking to hunks like that trio you shouldn't let your tongue hang out and you really shouldn't wear tight trousers," he said patting my bum as I bent down to put dirty plates in the lower part. "Parts of you are very prominent when you get aroused... ...And those three get me aroused as well. Pity they are of the other persuasion!!"
After the party we were at home and I was in the front 'music' room with Frankie who was slightly tipsy from having had more than enough champagne. Not too tipsy to have a serious conversation, though. He sat, sprawled, in a comfortable armchair while I sat on the piano stool listening.
"Hunh!" he said, "You and Tris! My mates think the light shines out of your arseholes! All I got today was how wonderful you are and what was it like having a gay brother and his so nice friend around. Even Pugsy nearly had the vapours when Tris hugged him when he arrived. I said he got a bigger hard-on over that than when he kissed Shelley." He laughed. "He didn't disagree and he didn't threaten to batter my head in like he usually does when I say things to him. Promise you'll take me to that club you took Zack to."
"Who told you about that? Did Zack? If he did I'll have to have serious words with him."
Toad looked a bit subdued. "My big mouth again, sorry. But he's eighteen quite soon and he said he didn't drink. Actually, I've had a few long talks with him on the telephone. It's a bit safer as Brandon uses the same computer and he thinks Brandon reads all his stuff. I just said tell him I'd ask him if his dick was better when his sister was there and that would shut him up. Anyway, Zack is thinking of applying to be Servant of the Chapel. He's quite religious. More than us but he's OK with it. I felt quite honoured as he wanted my opinion." He grinned at me. "He wondered as he's gay whether that would count against him. I said he'd better have a word with Charles. That right?" I nodded. "So, he thinks now he'll read Law now instead of Maths if they'll have him. Eddie's applying, too, he wants to be a doctor and his Dad says it'll cost him a lot. He said Oliver thinks he'd be good at it."
"Steady Eddie," I said, "You and he made a fine pair at the Villa. I suppose if the College accepted you both the pair of you would share."
He didn't sneer or anything. He just looked straight at me. "Marky," I knew the way he said it there was something even more important coming, "Mum says I should apply for the Pennefather Scholarship. They'll be advertising soon as you've only got one more year. Do you think I've got a chance?"
I couldn't do my usual Toad baiting. "Frankie, I think you have every chance. You show how good you are by getting the two diplomas. You'll hear about the first very soon. You must have good A levels, you've done so well with your GCSEs, you should be OK. Practice, practice, practice! Like Mr Blair said about education, education, education! You want to read Music?"
He nodded. "Yeah. I'm doing that and French and History for As. I'm going to stay with Laurent for the whole of Easter 'cos he's doing his Baccalaureate and wants to practice his English and I'll just hear loads of French. I might do a joint Music and French. Depends if I'm accepted."
I didn't say anything but the comments Safar had already made to Oliver after the concert and the approving looks on the Master's face might be some indication of the good chance he had. Safar had said that Ben was far and away ahead of the others who had come for interview for the ordinary Organ Scholar post and he was very worried that the number and the standard of applicants seemed to be falling but if any were like Frankie they'd be in.
- New Year 2003
[A number of the characters appearing here also appear in Aladdin's Awakening. High School: Apr/May 2004.]
On the Thursday after New Year's Day there was a phone call. It was Safar. Would Francis, Tris and I like to spend the week-end at Ulvescott Manor? Dr Thomson had much to show us and talk to us about, and his Father and his friend, Colonel Cameron-Thomson, wanted to meet us properly, too. Dr Thomson's grandsons would be there as well, one with two boys, the second having the family birthmark. Francis was over the moon. He didn't have to be back at school until the Tuesday. Not only would he be related by 'marriage' to a Count - Uncle Francesco and Count Aldo Leopardi would be announcing the intention of their Civil Partnership in the Times as soon as the legislation was fully passed - but he would really be related to the owner of a superb country residence. It didn't take much to get his dander up when addressed as Milord Frankie of Toad Hall Five Times Removed, and the sneers were much in evidence.
We went by train as Dad was playing in concerts on both Friday and Saturday but he and Mum were going later in the month. We were met at the station on Friday afternoon by Safar who was driving a rather old Ford - not the sort of car I could see Toad had imagined would be there to meet us for such a stately residence. Safar knew exactly what Toad was thinking and said his Father disliked ostentation and the official Mercedes had been given up years ago. I could see that Safar liked Frankie as he pointed to the front passenger seat so Toad sat in front with him and bent his ear all the way. He said he'd heard that Safar's son, James, was the College's new Junior Fellow in French, and he thought, if he was accepted he would probably do a joint degree. Safar was heard to say that was a wise choice as long as both his French and Music were up to scratch. The rest of the journey the chat in the front was in French.
What a welcome again. First, the gate opened and a guard surveyed us as Safar raised his hand in greeting. Then on getting out of the car we were greeted by the resident wolfhound who we were told was named Drum. The huge dog sniffed at Frankie but forbore from chewing him as he must have remembered him from the previous visit. We all shook paws. In the house Frankie was immediately taken over by the elder of the two little boys, Jeremy, a very chatty almost five-year old. The younger one, Andrew, was almost three and very quiet, but thawed when Frankie went off and came back with football shorts on and the pair displayed identical birthmarks on their legs. Later, seven of us, that is, the two Dr Thomsons, father and son, the grandsons Saf and Jak and the great-grandson Andrew, Saf's son, with Frankie and me all lined up and a photograph was taken of the marked descendants of Jean-Antoine Leferreur as now shown on the extended family tree. A phone call to Chester meant that Dr Thomson's other son, James the Elder, as he was known in the family, who was a solicitor much to Tris's interest, would come down post-haste on Saturday to complete the array of descendants with Saf's other son, Jeremy. Neither he nor Jeremy had the birthmark but he wanted to see these newcomers as he called us and to get us all in focus, as he put it.
The other two old gentlemen, His Excellency or His Royal Highness or Sheik Sayed Al-Hamed as Toad gathered, his eyes popping as the titles were recited by Safar, pulling Toad's leg saying he had to bow three times before addressing him, and Colonel Lachlan Cameron-Thomson looked on laughing together as the family history was revealed.
There was instant rapport between the much older Safar and young Frankie. I knew Safar had the measure of Frankie and he remarked to me that Frankie was so alike in character to James the Elder there was no doubt a family connection. James the Pickle as he was also affectionately known.
Safar egged on the older Dr Thomson to tell about his own discoveries about his family. Frankie's eyes popped even more, and so did mine and Tris's, when a superbly illustrated book was shown to us. We were told it was the second edition of the translation he had done of a story 'O Audaciam Immanem' written by Jean-Antoine in the late 1700's for two Englishmen and illustrated mainly by Sir Timothy Parker's wife. I'd heard of him. He'd conducted Dad's orchestra many times. The frontispiece was a very explicit nude lad - Dr Thomson as a boy of fourteen or so. As Dr Thomson said, you don't often get drawings done like that by an Archbishop, as his friend was now. Stories came thick and fast. How the lads in the drawings were all friends and relations. Safar pointed at himself as a lad and said one of the final drawings was of his son James when he was younger. Dr Thomson said as we were part of the family we must have a copy but it had to be read in daylight. His son, Francis, the medical Dr Thomson, said to take no notice. The family had always been quite open about such things.
I realised about 'such things' as Francis was with a very handsome Arab gentleman named Ibrahim and his nephew, James' unmarried son Jak, had his friend Max Cartwright with him. Later, after a superb dinner and we'd chatted more, Francis took the three of us into the study and said quite openly that throughout the family history they'd discovered there was a strong strand of gayness or of bisexuality. He told us of Piers Crossley and Miles Buchan and the strange but benevolent effect they seemed to have on the house. He smiled, "I don't want to intrude, but we've made up the two rooms, next to each other. I suggest tonight you, Mark, and your brother sleep in what we call Piers' room. If you don't mind, Tris, sleeping by yourself, you'll be in the 'Horsebox' next door. I'll take you up later and show you. In fact, you'll find your bags already up there."
But then, Safar and I were, by Royal Command, to play. I played the Beethoven Sonata No 7 in G with the Rondo in the final movement and that odd, quiet ending. Safar played a flute piece, accompanied by the elder Dr Thomson, and then he beckoned to Frankie. He had got a volume out of the music cabinet - The Spanish Dances - and they were off. If Frankie had played superbly with Gran there was something extra now. He must have put in hours of practice since, not only on finger dexterity but also expression. If he'd played the test pieces in the exam like this he would get his diploma I was sure. It was quite late when we dispersed up to bed. Francis Thomson and Safar led we three up.
Frankie had seen the main room on the previous visit. We saw the 'Horsebox' first. Still decorated as it had been so many years ago. Entering the other room I was immediately struck by something.
"I've been here before," I said. I stood for a moment. "It's the room I always finish up in when I have one of my running dreams. It's the peaceful ending room I call it. Just like this."
Tris came over and put his arm round me. He pointed to an enlargement of a photo on the wall. It was of Piers and Miles. It was uncanny. It was a photo of Tris and me. Safar smiled.
"We didn't say anything downstairs but everyone has been watching you two. We all knew. There's a lot more to tell."
Frankie spoke up. "Marky, you and Tris are to sleep here tonight."
We did. A strange, dream-filled sleep for me. I relived things I had experienced in some other life. A happy life but strangely short in some ways but a continued life elsewhere. That must have been Piers. There was a procession of boys, of young men, all welcoming, all happy, men who were still alive. But there was one in particular. From his looks he must have been related to the Colonel we met today. He was like a will-o-the-wisp ever darting hither and thither. I knew he had passed on but there was such a loveliness about him that dispelled any of the dark clouds which, I knew, would inevitably be in any life. Dark forms kept at bay. I knew Tris and I and Frankie were now part of this wide woven fabric in time and space. I knew we would be protected and guided whenever we needed to be. I heard a voice telling me to have courage and my life would be filled with treasure of every sort. I was awoken by a soft nuzzling just by the side of my neck. Tris was awake and caressing me gently.
"Marky," he said softly, "This place is home. I don't know why I say that, but I know. It feels as if I never slept last night but I am so relaxed and calm.
I've been told I've made the right decision. I will succeed. I don't know who said it but a small golden-haired lad led me along and someone spoke so gently to me."
I told Tris my dream. The golden-haired lad was the same. I hadn't finished when the connecting door to the bathroom opened and a dazed looking Frankie came in and climbed into bed between us. Nothing was said but arms were entwined and we slept again for a least another hour.
Frankie woke us with a start. He sat up in bed. "How did I get here?" he asked. "I don't remember." He was silent for a moment. "Yes, I do. That dark-haired boy like the one in the photo said 'Come' and led me in here. I wasn't frightened. He called me Francis and said my life was set." He put a hand out and I grasped it. "What did he mean?" he asked.
"Our dreams have been just like that, too," I said, "Just as Tris woke me I'd heard my life was set, too, I was never to worry but always have courage and my life would be filled with treasure of every sort. Odd. I worry all the time but I feel I shouldn't now."
Three subdued teenagers got washed and dressed and went down the wide stairway ready for breakfast and whatever lay before us for the day. Outside the breakfast room we were met by Safar and the two Dr Thomsons. They all smiled when they saw us.
"You've met our companions," Francis Thomson said. "Piers and Miles and Flea at least."
"Flea?" I asked, "Fair-haired and so lively?".
"Lachs' younger brother," said the elder Dr Thomson. "He was one of my dearest friends. We spent so many happy times together. He was Uncle and friend to all my six sons and their friends."
"Six sons?" I asked. "You said last night Francis and James were your sons."
"It's a long, long story," said Safar as the three of them laughed. "And I might tell you sometime about the first time I met my brother James and brother Francis after I and Khaled were rescued and how Dad took on board two others. They're both famous, not like little me."
Frankie had been quiet all this time. "The boy told me my life was set and I knew I would be happy."
The other Francis, who matched my ever-growing brother, put out an arm across his shoulder. "He told me that, too, oh so many years ago. It's been true."
Tris was curious. "Why have I been included?" he asked, "I know I have been, but I'm not related."
Safar smiled. "You don't have to be related in that way. You have been accepted just like me and my brother Khaled and my Father before me, and so many others. If you have love in your heart you will be accepted. There have only been one or two who have not found peace and even those who come here who might disturb the equilibrium are usually calmed."
"Stroppy teenagers in general," said the elder Dr Thomson, "Like I was.
I learned a lot here and so did my friends."
A busy day. We visited the workshops and the craft shops and so on. We met the craftsman who had made Dad's violin. Another one and two of the apprentices had just finished building a harpsichord and it was tuned ready. I played two of the pieces from a French Suite by Bach which were on the music desk. I was just beginning the second piece when the Sheik arrived, with Safar and the Colonel. He was leaning heavily on a stick but stood with the others and listened.
"Thank you. Now that's yours, my boy," he said as I finished. He turned to the craftsman. "To be delivered to St Mark's College, Cambridge." Before I could say anything he turned to Frankie. "You're just like Lachs' brother, except you're black-haired and getting on for a foot taller! You and he would have been great friends, I know. Safar tells me you play the trumpet. Choose any one you like and if there isn't one here they'll order it for you." He turned to Tris. "My son Khaled will get in touch. Your Law School fees you can forget." He held up his stick. "No thanks. It's me who has to thank you all for bringing more joy into our house."
The elderly pair were off. Safar held up a finger before any of us could rush to thank him. "My Father is like that. As soon as you arrived yesterday he said you were definitely part of the family." He turned to me. "It was odd. He and Dad and Uncle Lachs had long discussions after your father visited here and played to them. They couldn't work out why he seemed to fit, as it were, into the scheme of things. It's only now knowing he is related to Dad and to Piers that things have fallen into place. Let's go to the caf‚ as I want to discuss something else."
The caf‚ was quietly busy even after Christmas and the New Year. Safar explained there was always a constant stream of customers because the standards were kept very high with the shopkeepers and the craftspeople. I was still rather dumbstruck over that most generous gift and I could see Frankie was quite solemn for once. A very nice waitress came and took our order.
As we settled down Safar looked at me. "The something else is the matter of Simon Finch-Hampton. I know he doesn't seem to fit into the scheme of things although he is definitely related to you and to Dad's part of the family." He smiled. "It must be difficult for you to sort out all the relationships here. I talk of Dad and Father. Just to say that my brother Khaled and I were kidnapped because there was a family feud and my Father was involved in our government. It was Uncle Lachs and his team that rescued us, so long ago now. Dr Thomson took us in and he and his wife brought us up mostly. He's my Dad."
He laughed.
"I hope that's clearer. It's not the whole story as you'll find out, but it'll have to do as a start." It did sound complicated but the whole set-up seemed that way. He went on, "It's been very upsetting for Dad to hear about Simon. The good thing is that he must have recognised something in your cousin Adam. He rarely praised anyone but I've heard him more than once in the Senior Combination Room say that Adam was one of the best students he'd ever had and reminded him so much of how he had been as a student earlier. He got rather drunk one night and I and the Physics don, Adrian Parfitt, were the only ones left and he told us a bit about his early life. If it's true it must have been hell for him. He wasn't wanted. The two sons in the household were several years older and they tormented him and his only respite was in locking himself in his bedroom and reading. He won a scholarship but the family sent him to the local comprehensive school instead where life was not easy for a boy with a double-barrelled name and apparently from a well-heeled home. Luckily the History master recognised his talent and after he left and went to the local Sixth Form College he gave him extra tuition and he was accepted for St Mark's. He got the highest History First awarded in his year and was immediately elected a Fellow. But, he reacted so badly to all his background."
Frankie spoke up. "He had a guilty secret, too. I knew that, but I didn't know what it was."
"Yes, the accident, and then that fire. I don't think we've heard the end of it all," said Safar, "But as far as he was concerned, I think under all that harshness there must have been a very lonely and unhappy soul." He shook his head. "He drove his students hard and he was recognised as a good teacher. Adam flourished under that. Now, Father and Uncle Lachs want to meet him and Ivo as soon as possible. I think they have a proposal for Adam first of all..." He laughed. "...You wouldn't think that between them one ran one of the richest countries as second in command as Ambassador over here, and the other masterminded most of military intelligence in this country and was connected to several other countries as second in command of all that, too. His boss, in name, was Max Cartwright's grandfather. General Cartwright and Lachs were at school together. You can prime Adam on this. Father and Uncle Lachs have been writing their memoirs and they want an editor. I stuck my oar in and suggested Adam before I knew of any relationship." He laughed again. "You see, the scheme of things seems to be there. There's a letter ready for Adam. If he'll put off his College history research for the next year or so he'll make his name. I've read some of Uncle Lachs' jottings and if the government lets him publish it, it'll be dynamite."
I think all this was getting so complex. Adam was to be drawn in. He wasn't known to be connected when discussed. But true, there seemed to be a web connecting so many of us. I couldn't wait to hear what the rest of our family would have to say, starting with Dad who must have carried the birthmark inside just as Dr Thomson said his son James had. And what about forthright Aunt Sophie, who as far as was known was the only female so far in the family history to have had the birthmark? I suppose things like that would be less likely to be revealed with girls and ladies in the past with all the restrictive dress and the social strictures on showing even ankles in public. I could only imagine her reaction and the laughter which would boil up when she descended on this almost exclusively male establishment. Her ebullience and good humour enlivened every gathering I had been in with her.
Even after this there was more to come. After lunch I was browsing in the Library and was amazed at the range of books. In fact, one set caught my eye. A row of leather- bound volumes some with familiar titles, 'Bow Bells Ring Twice', 'The Camberwell Beauty Case', 'Murder at the Adelphi'. I had those three in now elderly paperback editions. I remembered the very twisted plots, full of surprises, but unravelled by the very erudite Inspector Buck. I also remembered Dad telling me of the general astonishment when the author was revealed as a woman. I was looking at one I hadn't got, 'All Change at King's Cross', when Jak came up behind me. He looked over my shoulder.
"Shan't tell you the ending, but that's one of my favourites. I didn't realise it but I watched Ma writing some of that one," he said laughing.
"Ma?" I asked.
"My Great-Grandma. She was Grandad Thomson's mother. She must have been over eighty when she wrote that one. I think it was the last one she wrote."
"J L Fountain was your Great-Grandmother?"
"Fountain, Fontane. The French connection. There's brains all over the family. Glad you've joined us." He laughed. "Glad you're gay, too. I have to keep telling my brother there's more to life than breeding. Only joking, but being a twin, too, means I have to keep my end up, pardon the expression."
"You've heard my cousins are twins, too, and after what we discussed last night I'm certain Adam is at least bi."
He nodded. "It's all in the family. We've been OK but Maxie had a bit of a rough time. His Dad was not too happy to say the least as he was a General's son and thought it wasn't quite the thing to have a gay son himself, but as soon as Max settled down with me and finished his doctorate, things were smoother. And his Grandad's been a real brick, kept the peace and couldn't have cared less."
I was nosy. "Someone mentioned computing last night. Is that what you do?"
"Yep. The four of us, that's Saf and Chrissie and us two, we have this firm dealing with computer security. Max did Maths at Oxford, then did his doctorate on mathematical models for computer networks and on the way discovered a set of particular algorithms which didn't get into the thesis and we use them in our programming. Only the four of us know the basis of them." He laughed. "Shouldn't tell you all this as you're a mathematician...."
"Only in my second year," I said.
"I know, but you might be useful in the future!"
"I play the organ, too!" I said, "I might be better at that!".
"We know! Grandad's over the moon about that. You'll be a permanent fixture here I see. And you don't mind me saying but your Tris is something, too....."
"Caught you trolling again have I, brother dear," came a voice from the doorway. "Can't leave him two minutes and he's after handsome young men again. Wait till I tell Max."
In came the other twin. I'd had difficulty the night before telling them apart. They were just as identical as Ivo and Adam and it sounded as if they spoke to each other in the same way.
"Sorry if he's making advances, Mark, he's led by his insatiable urge..." He grinned.
"...Aren't we all," I said. "I suppose when you get to the age of thirty it's still there to some extent!"
"Cheeky little whipper-snapper," said Jak, "If he wasn't the same size as me I'd tell you to deal with him, but on the other hand..."
"What's that," another imposing figure entered, followed by a laughing Tris. It was Max. "Who's referee, you? If I didn't keep the pair separated all you'd get is yap, yap, yap, all day long."
"It sounds just like his cousins. We've missed them this term," said Tris, "It's almost been silent."
"As the grave, I hear," said Max, "Tris has been telling me about the discoveries. Can't say anything so exciting happened in my time at Oxford. A few of the dons were covered in dust and cobwebs and we only knew they were alive when their false teeth fell out if their rice pudding was too tough. God, there was one maths don whose claim to fame was that his father was taught by Lewis Carroll when he was a student."
That set us off telling about Augustus and his photographs of the choristers. Of course, Grandad was related, so photos of him would have to be donated. I was grinning as I thought of the twelve almost nude studies. My grin was noticed and I had to say about those photos and was commanded to have copies made for the wall of the bedroom to go by the framed drawing of their Grandad Thomson.. Their boast was that they were in 'the book' as well. A copy was opened and being well-hung seemed to run in the family. But then, Tris was, too. Perhaps by association. I didn't mention that then, but even though the three of them were at least thirty they seemed no older than us and the conversation was most definitely unrestrained.
We hadn't really missed Frankie in all of this. We found he'd been taken over again by the two small boys who had taken him, accompanied by the guardian wolfhound, to explore the grounds and see a churchyard memorial and the previous dogs' graves. He had just returned with them when there was a great commotion. The lads rushed off. Grandpa had arrived. This was James Thomson the solicitor. Frankie, Tris and I had a critical eye run over us and before he could say anything his wife stepped forward. "Whatever he says, take with a very large pinch of salt!"
"Stymied again!" he said, "Anyway, I'm James the Pickle as Dad will have no doubt informed you. I don't have the birthmark outside but it's obviously inside as I've passed it on to one of my pair." He looked at Frankie and me. "Right drop your breeks. I need to check your credentials."
Whether he was serious or not there were hoots of laughter as we complied immediately and bare legs were displayed with the trademark birthmark. The young lads were giggling with glee and young Andrew had to pose with us for his Grandpa's inspection as well.
Of course, he knew the firm of Phillips, Van Zyl and Partridge, so Tris was congratulated on choosing 'a fine career and a fine firm to work for'.
Before dinner we all had to perform again. This time I played the organ. A very sweet-toned instrument but with some bite as well. I played some French pieces Lewis had gone over with me, mainly for manuals, but tuneful and full of interest. Frankie then played the whole of the Beethoven 'Waldstein' Sonata, one of my great favourites, and beat me as he played most of it from memory. After Safar and Dr Thomson had played a duet Frankie produced his new trumpet and with Safar accompanying him played the first movement of Haydn's Concerto in E flat. As they reached the end Safar's Father nodded and they went on and played all three movements. The old gentleman called Frankie over and placed both hands on his. Nothing was said but Frankie told Tris and me later he felt he had been blessed.
That later was when we were together in that wide bed. We three slept together that night. Frankie held between us. And when we woke it was as if we hadn't moved. Tears were running down Frankie's face. "The boy kissed my forehead and said I should never have hatred in my heart and I should bring my sons here in the future. When I was with the little boys yesterday I knew I wanted sons of my own. And they wanted to be with me. Am I being silly? I'm just seventeen....."
There had been a stillness in the night. There had been love and affection and such a presence. "Frankie," Tris whispered, "It will be your duty to have sons and bring them here. That's all. Whenever."
We left on Monday morning full of joy and sadness. Sadness at having to leave such a lovely place but joy with all we had experienced and the invitation to visit again and again. There was still much to learn. Tucked in our bags was a copy of the translated book plus a copy of 'All Change at King's Cross' which Dr Thomson gave me which had been signed by his mother. I would treasure that. In Frankie's hands for the whole of the journey home was a thick volume. 'Paul's Odyssey' written by a friend of Dr Thomson's.
Homecoming was tremendous. Dad had brought the car to the station and Frankie couldn't stop talking. I must say his memory was accurate for all he said. We sat round the dining table and went through all the documents we had been given. The family tree, copies of birth, marriage and death certificates, photos and prize of prizes, a copy of that old photo of Piers and Miles. The looks on their faces, so loving, so knowing, so tender. There was a photo of the memorial board at their old school with the young Jacko Thomson standing with the young Lachlan Cameron-Thomson and his brother the smiling, Andrew, 'Flea'.
Dad said he'd had some presentiment when he visited Ulvescott Manor but he didn't know or realised what it was. They were going for the weekend at the end of January which included Burns Night. Toad was going as well and was determined to wear a kilt. I said he'd better watch it as that dog might take a fancy.... The Toad sneered.
Mum and Dad were a bit worried about the gift of the harpsichord. I pointed out to Dad that he had the violin which as far as the man in Hill's was concerned was even more valuable. And they were gifts from the heart. Frankie was very serious when he said he knew they were from the heart. The trumpet he had chosen was top-range and very costly, but he didn't know that when he tried them out. He said when the Sheik had held his hand he knew he had been accepted and he had whispered 'You are chosen'. What did he mean?
Tris and I were in my room later when Frankie knocked and came in. We had the translated book on the desk between us and were taking it in turns to read out the text and then waiting while we studied the drawings. We glanced at each other even after the second page. There was no mistaking the effect the book was having on us.
"Got something to ask you," he said, very quietly for Frankie. "Did you, you know, ...do anything while you were there?"
Tris looked at me. We had already mentioned the fact. "No, Frankie," he said, "There was no need. Just being there was enough. I felt that we were being loved all the time. I know next time we go we will have to show our love for each other."
"I felt the same," I said.
"I'm being truthful," Frankie said, "But I didn't feel the need either." He grinned. "Three days! Longest time ever..."
"...Usually three hours, eh?" said Tris.
The nose screwed up. "But serious.... ....But there's this book, too."
He held up the one he'd been reading. "The house the boys visit in this must be the same one. There's lots that happened there. You'll have to read it and it'll make you....."
"....Not as much as this one," said Tris. "This is definitely not for little seventeen- year-olds. You read this and you'll be skinned worse than Brandon and Pietro."
"Huh, just because you're ancient and getting past it....."
A Toad had his trousers lowered and his nice seventeen-year-old backside slapped gently by two laughing ancient ones, who it must be admitted were having more of a job now in holding onto him, perhaps due both to the increased size of the Toad and also to the uncomfortable erections engendered by the other book. He yelled and screeched quite out of proportion to the taps he was being given.
"Will you two put him down, please, and come down here!" Mum's voice from the bottom of the stairs rose even above the noise he was making. "As you are home and doing nothing you can lay the table. And I mean both of you!!"
To be Continued: