Mystery and Mayhem and St Marks

This is the last installment of the tale from St Mark's. I would like to thank all the readers who have contacted me with their messages. I have been very heartened by your goodwill. Thank you all. If you have been puzzled about any English customs, our educational system, or any of the little, or large, idiosyncrasies of our life let me know. I am always willing to answer. J. e-mail: [coded] joad130{at}hotmail.com

Mystery and Mayhem At St Mark's

by

Joel

Some Characters Appearing or Mentioned: Mr Arthur Chalfont-Meade A golfing enthusiast with a purple nose Mr Jerry Quinton The Mayor who is quietly inaudible Mrs Gwen Quinton The Mayoress and ex-Art student Kent Martin A seedy reporter guaranteed to quote wrongly. Sergeant Carl Bachman (Carlo) A newly promoted policeman who likes leather Dr Percival Sinclair An elderly don whose eyesight is no longer perfect Philip Foxx Captain of Rugby whose picture does him justice Gervase Box Captain of Boats perhaps underhung but made equal Dr Eric Mays Master of St Mark's and renowned Biochemist. Gwilym ap Rees First Year Organ Scholar of elfin build Anthony Duncan A Fresh young Engineering student Logan Henderson A second Fresher with the answer to a mystery

1. My Finals Year: B. Christmas Term. [Part Two]

[ Liam was laughing as I poured him a mug of tea. He looked at Oliver. "You'd better read the Times first. Page eight."]

Oliver pushed our empty plates aside and laid the paper out. "Page eight," he said as he turned the pages. "Ah, yes."

There it was. A headline. Quite straightforward, almost a direct quote,

'Sacred And Secular In Cambridge College'

Under it were two smallish photos. One was of the head and shoulders of Frankie and Ivo/Adam - no further. The second was of part of the cavorting dancers and the courting couples. A bit more frank but reduced in size showing Charles, Tris and me in full glory as the three left hand figures in the main frieze. The article did go over the sacred works displayed in the two outer cellars and praised the artistry of Damien FitzArnold 'the well- known artist' and then spent a good three paragraphs on the middle cellar and it's 'celebration of erotic male rapture' painted in about 1770 from known Greek originals and now renovated by Alistair Jameson, 'who has shown flair in incorporating contemporary alumni in his reconstructions'. A very neutral phrase for what did appear.

The final paragraph said that no doubt it would all be on the visiting list of anyone not familiar with the byways of Cambridge and it's treasures. All quite bland but it did note opening times starting Monday.

Liam then brandished the second paper. It was the rather outspoken rag Tris and I had been in before. The front page's screaming headlines this time were castigating some football star for sticking his cock - as far as one could read between the lines - in some welcoming orifice in a massage parlour.

DWAYNE SAYS 'JUST A RUBDOWN!'

This was followed by a clear, almost full-page, shot of the well-known chunky figure sidling out of a side-door of a rather seedy-looking establishment. Under it was a further pronouncement in smaller type.

TRACEY SAYS "GET STUFFED YOURSELF!"

More on pages 4, 5, 6 and 7.

"We're on page eight in this one, too," said Liam making sure all were included.

I turned the pages this time. Not so large print, but just as lurid.

'OBSCENE COLLEGE WALLS'

Short but not sweet! The paragraphs which followed were full of vitriol.

'Young people at Cambridge will be exposed to explicit gay love images said to be art by College Head, Eric Mays. Our reporter, Kent Martin had his camera destroyed and was manhandled out of the foul cellar where the pictures are displayed by two bouncers when he was protesting about the vile paintings. His appeals to the police were ignored as university and town bigwigs were entertained. When the Lady Mayoress emerged she was red-faced and said "That was truly something!"

The disgusting images were shown in full on television that evening. The Reverend Ernie Copthorne, the well-known pastor of the Church of The True Path in Cambridge, when interviewed said "I fell to my knees as I viewed the lewd images. I recorded the evening news and will show my congregation on Sunday so we can see those evils of the flesh our dear young people are exposed to in the name of education."

The exhibition at St Mark's College also includes recently found items looted from local churches by Henry the Eighth.

When contacted, the College Bursar, Charles Stewart, said the exhibition will be open to the public from Monday. Entrance will be five pounds, usual concessions for Senior Citizens, Students, Cambridge Residents and the Unwaged.'

Both Oliver and I let out our own screeches of mirth as we read the report. Liam's grin showed he'd already seen it.

"Miss Anstruther-Lamb was a good bouncer!" I said, "'Kent Martin'! Who does he think he is? Wasn't Superman Kent something or other? And I saw the Lady Mayoress. She was red-faced through laughing with Mother. Oh God! Charles as Bursar now!

At least his name is spelt incorrectly."

Oliver was spluttering. "Looted by good old Henry! Don't they know any history? Who's this pastor, anyway?"

Liam was laughing as well now. "He's some mad old git gets up on the Market Place on Saturdays...." He stopped and looked quite downcast.

"He had something to do with Drew?" I asked. I remembered the phrase 'evils of the flesh'.

Liam nodded. He was in full flow as recompense. "He used to give him all those leaflets. Mr Tomkins told him once to keep away from the College and not dump his rubbish in the Lodge. He said Mr Tomkins was the spawn of the Devil and would rot in Hell with the rest of the sinners. Mr Tomkins told him he remembered him from school where he used to peer at the girls through a hole in the changing-room wall." He cheered up again and sniggered. "Old git shouted those were the lies of the damned and he had forsaken the flesh and Mr Tomkins said it was only because he couldn't get it up...." He stopped. He looked at both of us. Had he gone too far?

I thought I'd better support the lad. "Good old Albert!" I said, "A master of repartee. Listen and learn!"

"Better get back or he'll repartee me," said Liam.

I found a five pound note and passed it over. "For the papers and get me another copy I can give to Doctor Anstruther-Lamb, please. I don't think that paper is her usual type of reading matter."

He laughed and went off and was back in about fifteen minutes with a second copy. I folded it open at the page and wrote a short note saying thank-you for the tea and that this report had come to my notice. Liam said he would deliver it pronto to her rooms.

I worked hard on problems on Friday morning. Oliver and I went to 'first sitting' in Hall and listened to the chatter of the old hands and the slightly more subdued murmurs of the Freshers. What was evident was that the hot topic were the cellars. I saw several students displaying their timed tickets and thought that had been a bright idea. Just then Charles came in and brought his laden tray to where we were sitting with two Freshers opposite us who were asking questions about which pubs and bars were best. Sweet young eighteen-year-olds just loosed from mummy's apron-strings, I thought, then checked myself. Of course, they were male and needed guidance.

"My dears, let me join you." We shifted along a bit on the bench so he could sit on the end. The two lads gave us what could only be interpreted as peculiar looks. Charles was in one of his favourite get-ups. What looked like an old-fashioned frock coat with turned-up buttoned sleeves and black braid piping all around the hem. A high-necked crimson silk shirt was under this and a pale blue silk handkerchief was tucked into his sleeve.

He put down the tray and looked at the pair opposite. "I hope your accommodation is to your liking. You indicated you would both consider sharing." As the pair just stared at him obviously wondering who the hell he was Charles twigged this. "My dears, I know you but you do not know me! Charles Fane-Stuart, Assistant Bursar." He held out a hand. "The photograph each aspiring scholar has to enclose with his or her acceptance means we have a ready means of identifying each and every one of you You must be Anthony Duncan..," He inclined his head. "...And you are Logan Henderson."

The lads looked suitably impressed and shook hands.

Oliver laughed. "Charles, you surpass yourself," he said, "A photographic memory as well."

He smiled. "Thank you." He turned his attention to the two bright young things as well as cutting then forking up what looked like a rather succulent piece of steak. I hadn't noticed that on the menu. I'd opted for the quite succulent looking salmon and broccoli quiche. Hum! Menus were also looking up.

"My dears, have you taken your turn at the Exhibition?" He waved his fork in my direction. "It was my good friend Mark here who discovered the contents of the hidden cellar through solving the code. The rest is history."

Ouch, that did it. Yes, they'd seen the 'Celebration'. 'Wow!' from Anthony; a Scottish 'Jings!' from Logan. 'Saw about it in the Times this morning' from Antony. Four more Freshers further up the bench joined in. Help! I was a minor celebrity. But Logan capped it all in a broad Scottish lilt, and made Charles blush by pointing at him. "And it's you with the tambourine!"

"Eat your lunch, my dears, and I expect dear Mark might let you into his hallowed abode and demonstrate the secret door!"

Thank you, Charles. Diverting attention from you cavorting in your nakedness. OK. I did the only thing possible. I said perhaps the six around us might like.... Yes, they would like....

We finished lunch and the six followed Charles, in full flow, with silent, but grinning at each other Oliver and me, across the quad. I unlocked my outer door and the six filed in. There was another 'Jings!' from Logan - I warmed to him, he had an easy athletic gracefulness as well. There were gasps from the others as they took in grand piano, harpsichord, dining table, chairs, fine curtaining, rugs, panelling, pictures and the frieze of organ stops. I explained that as Pennefather Organ Scholar I was privileged to have these rooms. Oliver then stepped forward.

"But I have to tell you it hasn't all been all been a life of Riley for Mark. You may have read about the body in the cellar and..." He looked at me. He was going to raise the other topic. One we had to face at times. "...at the end of last year the tragic death of one of our fellow students." There were nods among the listeners. "Mark, luckily, survived...."

I didn't really want to remember those dark days. I interrupted. "...What Oliver has said is so true. But I hope we've put all those things behind us and I'll explain what's here." I would apologise to Oliver later, but then he also had to come to terms with his fiery experience at Simon Finch-Hampton's demise. I asked Anthony to read out the names on the stops. There was laughter as I spelled out the initials. I pointed at Logan who was a good six foot and could reach the appointed stop easily. "Pull the Gambe gently and listen for three clicks." There was a gasp as the panel swung open. There was more laughter as the passageway was revealed. It was then that Logan spoke.

"Ma gret-gret-grandfaither was an engineer," he began in his soft Scottish accent. "I've read his shop-book. It mentions this College and that's why I applied here. It's a bit vague but there's some drawings of a mechanism for opening a door. My father's an engineer as well and he couldn't think what it was. It must be this door."

Oh my! Another mystery solved. After they'd all had a look and I'd told them about the recital and all the musical happenings in the College the rest went off leaving Logan and Anthony. They were both going to read Engineering themselves so had a look in the cupboard in the passageway where the mechanism was housed. Logan nodded. It looked just like the drawings. His father was in practice in Edinburgh and had the old shop-books at home. I said about the Engineering dons who had inspected and repaired the worn parts of the mechanism and they had been puzzled. Over the next few weeks there were even more inspections and appraisals, especially when Mr Henderson made a special journey down to bring the original drawings which he deposited in the College Library..

When the pair went I did my apologies to Oliver. I said I wanted to get any bad memories well behind me. I said how much I valued everyone's friendship, especially his. They had all helped to erase what had happened. I said I never knew I had so many friends until I came here, but, I said again, his friendship was especially precious. He smiled and agreed he felt the same but he still had those horrible memories of his own which came as flashbacks at sometimes inopportune moments. That done we went off into Cambridge to the music shop in Green Street were we browsed for anything suitable for oboe and harpsichord and anything not too difficult for me to learn quickly for elsewhere in the recital. We spent ages there and had to rush to the Bus Station to meet Tris. It was all I could do not to hug and kiss him as he stepped off the bus. That happened in great measure when we were in the privacy of my rooms. Oliver, bless his heart, discreetly disappeared to the Chapel to play through a couple of the pieces he had chosen and said it was his turn to treat us to dinner. Tris and I spent the next hour and a half in joyous lovemaking, then showered, poured drinks and sat while we recounted our week apart and waited for Oliver to return.

He came back with Alistair who he'd invited as well. Alistair said he'd almost finished but had been hindered to some extent by inquisitive students who, if female giggled, if male sniggered, and urged him to be more generous with his restorations. He said Messrs Foxx and Box had been on a joint viewing and were pleased with what they saw. "I did them as mirror images so neither could complain," Alistair said with a grin. "Come down in the morning and check. Just a few more bits and pieces and I should be more or less finished by Sunday evening."

The three of us went down to the cellars after breakfast on Saturday morning. Both Damien and Alistair were there putting finishing touches to various bits. Alistair had also sketched in from a faint border two or three extra heads including his own and Damien's and also Raphael. I said he would be pleased. As he was looking down at his well-endowed brother from above it was an apt little cameo. I asked Alistair if he could add a few more heads as there seemed to be plenty of space across the top. He nodded. I said I had in mind Jason, Liam and Sean as well as 'Pull the other one' Danny from the Club as he had planted the idea. That meant Jonty and a couple of others as well. He laughed and said 'The more the merrier' as he thought he could make quite a feature of the frieze. "Make a bit more pocket-money before I go back to Art School. My Finals this year, too, and you can guess some of the things to go in my portfolio!"

The two outer figures were now fully visible, the staff had been craftily altered into an oar and, dangling from the wrist of the character at the other end was a net containing an unmistakable Rugby ball instead of the athlete's oil flask. The two were mirror images of each other with not a millimetre's difference in the size of the generous flaccid equipment between their legs. No wonder the two Captains had been pleased.

The rest of the day was spent in shopping and just being companionable.

After Dinner in Hall in the evening we joined the throng for the Freshers' initiation into the joys of the Cambridge watering-holes. That is Oliver, Tris and I, with Gabe and Josh chatting up everyone, started out and visited two of the pubs but then peeled off and went straight to the Club. There wasn't quite the build-up as for Whippet's farewell party but Carl was obviously the favourite of Godders and his friend - 'sorted out a spot of bother' as they put it - and the drink flowed freely.

In fact, Carl was in an expansive and chatty mood. He said he'd had the first big coup since being promoted and Mr B was so pleased.. The 'low-life', as he put it, hadn't taken on board the previous visit to tell him to mind his manners. Last Saturday afternoon he and a couple of drunken pals had given Godders and his shop assistants a rather scary time as they were locking up the shop. Godders had told Mr B so another visit was arranged for Monday morning.

He and Mr B had turned up at the house just after nine o'clock in the morning. Low- life's mother had rather hesitantly opened the door and they had gone in to find Low-life's father in the sitting-room watching a football match on a rather large, plasma screen, television set. Mr B gave Carl the nod and said he would watch the match as well. Carl said he then went upstairs and saw one of the bedroom doors open. It wasn't where Low-life was still asleep, but he investigated and saw six large boxes, as well as several Marks and Spencers bags. The six large boxes contained six more of the television sets. Well, well, well! There had been a break-in at a warehouse in Royston the previous week and amongst things taken were seven large television sets. A quiet glance at the contents of the M & S bags showed a collection of items most probably shop-lifted. No receipts in evidence!

Carl laughed. "Low-life's Dad said he was just looking after the sets for a friend and his Mum said she'd been doing some early Christmas shopping!" He said both were taken off to the local Police Station and a note was left for Low-life: 'Mum and Dad are at Parkside. Get your own dinner.' He laughed. "We'd got the van round and cleared all the evidence and taken them off without little Willy Wanka surfacing. He was stoned out of his tiny mind. But news travels fast. When his Mum and Dad got back, after we'd charged them, he wasn't there. A bit later he was found beaten up behind the Drummer Street Bus Station. Somebody thought he'd squealed! And I don't think Godders'll have anymore trouble."

Carl said Police work was often ugly - but so were the people they had to deal with. Low-life had squealed eventually and they had recovered all the stolen goods 'being looked after' by other confederates and got the perpetrators as well. He winked. "Mr B'll be quite generous when he arrives!" As he said it so the burly leather-clad figure appeared and the drinks flowed again.

Shawn, one of the owners, was welcoming everyone effusively and came over to our group and said that 'your friend's brother', meaning Raphael, the sociable angel, had had quite an effect and new customers were coming in. He said he'd also taken on the 'little tyke' as well who had learned bar-keeping skills very quickly. That turned out to be Curt who was dressed the part in a minimalist outfit which showed off his wiry young body. I'm afraid the Matteoli outfit Raph was wearing looked a bit tired and I said he'd better come and choose some more. As much as he wanted. I would also e-mail Unc with further requirements as well!. All good for business.

I have to say Oliver and I didn't imbibe too much and kept quite sober even when the influx of Freshers occurred later. Fiona and Dina were leading the female contingent and we got special hugs and kisses - not only from them! I spotted Logan and Anthony before they spotted us and sent Raph over to the two rather overwhelmed lads to invite them to our table. They goggled a bit when confronted with Brad and Carlo clad in their leather gear but Brad said they were harmless and as Logan had produced another 'Jings!' he was invited to partake of a wee dram. Half an hour later he was doing an almost Highland Fling with Danny who had him safely in his clutches as he whirled and twirled with seemingly gay abandon. I wondered 'gay'?

On Monday the tourists' queue for entry to the 'Celebration' stretched up to Trinity Street and Mrs Chalfont-Meade's brilliant idea of having timed tickets with half an hour only in the cellars was the saving grace or else there might have been riots. Charles was Chief Usher that day and for most of the week. Liam and the beefy sub-gardener, Wayne, were roped in as attendants, and were in charge of the middle cellar for quite a bit of the time. There was no shortage of students who signed up as attendants earning 'a little pocket- money' as Charles put it, including Messrs Foxx and Cox who pocketed extra pennies from numerous flash-happy tourists when they posed, in rowing or rugger kit, in front of their robust less-clad representations. Another was Christopher Lascelles-Wright, who always seemed to be on duty at the same time as Wayne! On other occasions when I went down to see how things were going the hubbub was quite something. The quiet of the first cellar was followed by the squeals and shouts of the viewers as they progressed into the second room. There was quiet again as they viewed the replicas of the treasures - with the notes that the originals were mainly on display in the Fitzwilliam Museum though some were being studied either at the British Museum or British Library. The replicas were superbly done and kept the people's attention.

Monday lunch-time was the opening of the new Dining Room. This would prove to be a money-spinner as well. The new Second Chef was a real find. The thirty of us who experienced both the subtlety and the richness of the food knew he was a master of his art. No wonder the standard of the ordinary Hall food had gone up as George, the master of the cleaver, wasn't going to be outdone. I was placed by Miss Anstruther-Lamb, with James Tanner the other side of her. She said she had been highly amused by the article and her sister-in-law had phoned to find out if she could be hired for the Women's Institute Barn Dance as the bouncer. James said she could do the same next time there was a contentious meeting of the Fellows' Council.

On the first Friday Charles said the takings were such that all the debts for setting up both the 'Celebration' and the Dining Room should be covered by half term if things went on as they had so far.

So term began. I didn't feel rushed but there were the incessant demands of the lectures, the Chapel, giving organ lessons to Jason and working at problems.

I revelled in the mind-bending aspects, especially in the topics in Pure Mathematics. Not that I found Applied dull - just most of the time I felt the greater challenge of the Pure. I wasn't too keen on the computing components though I liked the logical puzzles involved in programming. James Tanner was a stern taskmaster. No, not in a nasty way but work was work in tutorials and I had to concentrate as we explored the main paths and the byways. He was true to his word and on several Thursdays Fiona and Dina joined us. Fiona was a steady worker and I thought Dina blossomed over the weeks gaining a lot more confidence. I wasn't always the leader as I often got caught up with trying an inviting sideways alley. James would grin and said that would all come later.

I was also practising hard, not only for the Thursday night recital but also for the FRCO which I was determined to take after Christmas. Oliver and I got on so well, too. The 'Hold' command was rarely used but it sustained us when it happened. I was more fortunate in that Tris managed to come down to Cambridge quite a few weekends, but Zack spent a long weekend over his half term with Oliver. It was me then who had to make myself scarce after their initial meeting and greeting each other. Luckily Toad said he had been neglecting Laurent and needed to hear French properly spoken so spent his half term holiday in Lille.

Our evening 'Nine o'clock Knock' sessions were the highlight of most days. We all said we needed the relaxation they gave and we didn't have to pursue the relentless pubbing, partying, pool playing in the JCR, and so on during the week which so many of the undergraduates seemed to spend their time doing. We saved our energies for the Friday and Saturday visits to the Club and the circle of friends there grew. Logan and Anthony, though maintaining they were straight, became eager devotees and Logan even did his stint on numerous week-nights as employed drinks-carrier in his Henderson kilt. He said he didn't dare go 'commando' as he should and he was glad of the Lycra cycle-short undies as the legs gave the gropers somewhere to stick their five pound notes!

We all missed Whippet and his laconic asides but Brad and Carl were around as much as possible and kept a firm hand on the running of the Club to the owners' relief. A quiet word here and there and everything ran smoothly. Brad's son Tony announced that now he had his degree he was going to join the Police. I don't think I'd ever seen anyone so happy as Brad when Tony told us this. His constant companion, Terry, was working at Police Headquarters, so all was settled there.

In College Charles was the star. Rising and it suited him. Once things settled as far as the exhibition and general running of College affairs he returned to his History of the College and one of the delights of our NOK sessions were the anecdotes, usually scurrilous, of the past happenings in the College. He had found out much more about the cellar. The 'four boys of the town' weren't the first. The goings-on in the cellar had been spied on by the Servant of the Chapel who had been ejected one night as he had protested too much about the unseemly dress and behaviour of two of the boys 'quod nudi in convivis saltare didicerunt' - dancing naked at the feast. He went to town on his hatred of, but also his desire for, the ringleader who was the elder of the two Lascelles involved - 'gratuito potius malus atque crudelis erat' - he was nasty, mean and bloodthirsty. As Charles said, the poor lad was obviously torn between wanting to be part of the revels and feeling guilty, - 'odi te quia bellus es, Lascellus' - I hate you because you are beautiful, Lascelles.

Tris came down as much as possible. He was busy, too. Late one Friday afternoon I was busy rehearsing the choir with a new anthem for Sunday when he turned up. I was so glad to see him my slight disquiet about one of the more rhythmic passages dissolved. I think the choir sensed the freedom I then imparted to the beat and I beamed at them as the final chord died away. On their dismissal Fiona came across. "Your friend needs loosening up," she said to Tris, giving him her usual welcoming kiss. "His beat was a bit stiff until you came in." She laughed as she realised the possible double-entendre and Dina poked her in the back.. "Watch it! You're talking to boys now!"

We weren't going to the Club that evening as there was a birthday party with a disco booked in and the noise was likely to be horrendous. The four of us arranged to meet up later to go into town for dinner and, I must say, I enjoyed those young ladies' company and the conversation in any case. No desires. Just true companionship. Both were well ensconced with their boyfriends Louie and Toby who were doing their teacher training in London and would be in Cambridge the next day.

Oliver was also absent that night. He'd gone to visit an old aunt who lived in Peterborough so Tris and I would have the night to ourselves.

Back in the set we sat on the sofa and chatted. I said how I missed him so much during the week. He nodded and then laughed.

"Same here, but one bit of news from Microbe, I forgot to tell you... Minky's in the club!" I gasped at that. Microbe? He sensed my concern. "No, it's OK, it's not him. It's the skinhead or whatever. Been performing without and she forgot to take the pill." He laughed. "From the forlorn look on Pugsy's face on Wednesday I think Shelley's withdrawn her favours in that direction as well. Can't be helped, better safe than sorry!"

I just thought 'Thank God it's not Francis!'

We were just getting ready to go out when my mobile went off. I thought it might be Frankie seeing if Tris had told me about Minky. It wasn't. It was Ivo. Phoning from Rothenia! After the usual chit-chat especially as he'd had an e-mail earlier in the term with an attached photo of him/Adam touching up Frankie - of course, from Frankie, and was now wanting six copies of the recently produced postcard - he dropped a real bombshell.

"You know 'Tory and I announced our engagement at Easter," he said in more level tones. I said I did and I hoped they liked the engagement present - Tris and I had clubbed together and sent a voucher for tea at the London Ritz. "Well, we're getting married on December the twentieth. In St Mark's Chapel. Phoned the Chaplain earlier this afternoon. Family and friends. You'll play, please?"

I was too flabbergasted and also excited to say anything but "What?"

Ivo just went on. "A case of got to. Jumped the gun a bit. Adam's over the moon. Going to be an Uncle."

"And 'Tory?"

"Can't wait! We're so happy! Must go. Talk to you later. You can send the cards care of the Legation."

I turned to Tris who had been all ears. "'Tory's expecting!"

He rushed and grabbed me. "Wonderful news! Makes me feel a bit broody!"

We clutched each other laughing - joyful with the news and with our own joint happiness. A new generation was on the way!!

The four of us toasted the impending baby's head that night as the Thugs had been so much a part of College life and I knew most of the young ladies had lusted after them. At least, that was Adam's often stated view! Tris and I were slightly pissed as we made our way back to College and left the girls at the 'Bitch Niche', so we arrived back in quite a merry mood and as soon as the door closed on us we grappled each other on the sofa in the main room. A trail of discarded clothes then led to the bedroom where a joyful half an hour produced a glorious first climax for both. I remembered what had been said at Ulvescott Manor about 'premature' births and the statement Mum had made about me. I was still burbling on about 'runs in the family' when I entered Tris for the second time that night.

"After that," he murmured as we descended from the ecstatic heights, "If I were female I'm sure I would be pregnant." He paused. "Perhaps, someday we could find someone to give us the eggs and a womb.... One each."

I kissed him as tenderly as I could. "I would want nothing finer than to help raise your child..."

"...And yours," he murmured as we held each other tightly.

The news of Ivo and 'Tory's impending marriage spread fast. Uncle Francesco insisted he was involved with the reception and although Sir Harry Machin, 'Tory's Dad, was loaded, he and his wife said they would share. Aunt Sophie and Uncle George were so excited - their first grandchild! And, the parents would be married, not like.. ....Here several cohabiting pairs were mentioned including their local vicar's son, who seemed to have spread his sperm widely among willing young ladies who lasted a few months and were then rejected or ejected, and was reputed to have sired at least three offspring by the time he was twentyone.

Anyway the date of our recital was more important than idle gossip. I polished up my playing of Oliver's Prelude. I did suggest that one sequence of chords might be easier to manipulate with a couple of tied notes and a slight rearrangement of the chords and pedal passage underneath. Gwilym was most helpful. He insisted he would help with page-turning and registration where necessary. I also practised hard on a couple of Scarlatti Sonatas for the harpsichord alone and Oliver and I worked assiduously on his pieces where I would accompany him. I had three other short organ pieces planned but having chosen to end the first half with Rheinberger's Sonata No 4 in a minor I decided that the finale would be the Liszt Fantasia and Fugue on B A C H.

The Thursday arrived and there was an absolutely full house. Mum, Dad and Toad were there as well as Tris's parents. Oliver's grandparents came up and at last we met his father. A very ebullient character who charmed everyone with his wit and wisdom. Only Steady Eddie wasn't there as he was still in school down in Dorset. As I looked down over the organ loft rail before I started with the Prelude I was gratified to see a whole phalanx of friends from the Club. At the end of one row were Brad, Inspector Woolpit and the urbane figure of Assistant Commissioner McKenzie with his wife, daughter Fiona and sons Zack and Brandon. Zack smiled up at me, he knew the secret of the As. Mr McKenzie and Whippet were able to be there as he had been speaking at a conference in Cambridge that day and he needed his aide-de-camp with him.

I was really elated as I reached the end of the Liszt with those enormous chords. The whole programme had gone so well. Being on the floor of the Chapel with the harpsichord was quite a new experience for me rather than being up above all the time in the organ loft. I felt the audience were with me as I played my Scarlatti pieces. There were smiles of appreciation too of the works with oboe as Oliver's mastery of that recalcitrant instrument was so evident. There had also been that prolonged applause after the Prelude when he was urged to make his way forward and be acknowledged as the composer. I saw Zack's eyes on him as he bowed down below and I stood up above.

After the recital there must have been over forty people who crowded into my main room. As usual, Charles had insisted he oversaw the catering and Liam, Sean and Curt were busy supplying drinks and tidbits, under the watchful eye of Jason, as the conversation flowed and everyone met everyone else. I saw Mum surrounded literally by about six of the lads from the Club, including Logan, Anthony, Danny and Jonty. I dreaded to think what tales were being spread and hoped that she might think the others were also undergraduates. But being Mum she'd know and egg them on to tell all! Frankie was in deep conversation with Whippet, Carlo and Dave and I saw Whippet give him a plastic carrier bag which he'd had with him when he came to my set before the recital. Dad was well away laughing with Oliver's father and the other Jensens. Oliver was, of course, with Zack and his mother, while Fiona and Brandon were escorting their father round the throng and had the Master and Mrs Mays enthralled in some tale. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Dr Anstruther-Lamb chatting to a very relaxed, beautifully turned-out in new Matteoli gear, Raphael, with Gabe and Josh dancing attendance and old Dr Sinclair holding onto Gabe's arm for support for his old legs. I'd invited Jak and Max as well and Max and James Tanner were chatting and laughing about something while Tris was in earnest conversation with the law trio from the bungalow.

But, it was while I was talking to Mrs Henson, the Chaplain's wife, that disaster struck. I love olives. Big, succulent olives. There had been a dish passed round before and I'd savoured the two dark Kalamata olives stuffed with pimento I'd speared. As I was talking another dish came round. I selected a good-sized specimen and, as Mrs Henson said something, popped it into my mouth and bit.

Wow!!! There was no soft centre of pimento. I bit down very hard on a stone. There was an audible crack - at least to me - and I fished out half an upper molar. True, that tooth had been filled a couple of years previously after another minor mishap - caused by a plum stone that time. As the piece of tooth came out I nearly shrieked. Pain hit me. The whole of the side of my face seemed on fire. Mrs Henson took one look at the bloodied ivory in my fingers and assessed the situation. "Come with me," she said and led me from the room. She led me as I was almost blinded by the pain. There is something about nerves in teeth that seems to transcend other sorts of pain. A kick in the goolies is bad enough and some medical student had told me gall bladder pain was worse than childbirth, but I wasn't into thinking about comparisons at that moment. She took me back to the Chaplain's house where, as a qualified nurse, she set about looking to see what damage was done and giving me two very strong pain-killers.

"There's about half the tooth still there and the whole central pulp is exposed and that's where the nerve is," she said.

I knew. That nerve was suffering from exposure and it was complaining bitterly. She gave me a small bottle.

"There's four more of those tablets in there. Two when you go to bed and two in the morning. I'll contact Mr Armstrong now and see if he's got an emergency slot tomorrow. Come and see me after breakfast but I advise you not to eat anything."

Mr Armstrong - lovely name for a dentist who needed pulling power - answered immediately. Yes, one thirty tomorrow afternoon. Don't be late!

I went back to the gathering but could hardly speak. At least the pills had reduced things to a dull ache. I didn't dare drink or eat anything else. Charles was full of apologies. He should have had the dishes labelled. Not his fault I murmured as best I could. Tris was most distraught - he had wondered at my absence - but thought I'd needed to go to the loo with after-performance nervous loosening!. Everyone else was most sympathetic but what should have been a happy finish to our triumph was something I just wanted to end as quickly as possible. Luckily, all the London lot had to leave and that broke the party up somewhat. I mumbled to Fiona and Dina what had happened and they said don't worry about the morning lectures they would take notes. We had that arrangement anyway.

If any of us were absent then the others would make a second, carbon, copy.

I sloped off to bed and Tris came in to bid me goodnight before he went off. I would have loved him to stay but he had a nine o'clock lecture next morning and wasn't coming at the weekend as he'd promised to play in an Old Boys' match on Saturday. Anyway, by that time, the effect of the pills had really kicked in and I felt very groggy. Oliver was so solicitous. In fact, he had to help me undress and I was soon under the duvet having swallowed two more of the blessed pills and was well asleep when he had seen all off the premises and got into his own bed.

In the morning he left me alone and went for his usual run with the others. I was still dozy when he returned. I had some warm water with the third lot of pills and dozed again. Mrs Henson had came across just after nine as I hadn't turned up but I was still asleep. I woke up about eleven and found Liam sitting by the bed reading one of my detective novels. Mrs H had commandeered him and he was my guardian until I could get to the dentist at one thirty. Oliver was back from his own lectures just after twelve and he came with me to Mr Armstrong's surgery. I was in the chair at one fifteen and had an injection, and at one thirty the rest of the stump was extracted and the bleeding hole plugged.

"I'll give you an antibiotic just in case and take something like paracetamol - nothing stronger. It was a big tooth and you rammed the root well up when you bit so the whole of the bone will be a bit tender for a couple of days." He smiled. "Not too bad, though, I had one of St Edmund's front row forwards in yesterday morning. He lost his front row during Wednesday's game - wasn't wearing a mouthguard. Had the same myself when I was a student." He opened his mouth and I could see his top four teeth were false. "You can have a plate, too, but wait a while. Losing one's not too bad."

Cheerful! I was reminded of the Private Eye columns of the taxi drivers who had 'that so-and-so in the back'. Still, all I had now was a completely numb face and what felt like a gaping chasm when my tongue explored my loss.

I got back to my set to find a neat set of copied notes with the day's problems from Dina. I dozed a bit then set to work. I got through the straightforward problems but at the end of the notes for the second lecture there was a real bastard. It looked deceptively simple as so many problems in Pure Maths do. A statement requiring a proof with an answer likely to open up all sorts of possibilities.

In the end I left it. I'd had to cancel an extra tutorial with James Tanner because of the dental appointment so in penance I had a go at the next chapter of his manuscript. I felt more at home and was thoroughly enjoying the mental gymnastics as he'd chosen some entertaining as well as intriguing problems to follow his exposition. I remembered the introduction to the work in this chapter from what we'd done last year and I could see where this was leading. I was totally engrossed in my own little world when Oliver came back.

"How did it go?"

"OK," I said, "Got a hole the size of Everest and a dull ache."

He didn't think my analogy was at all good and made comments about my paucity of expression. I was too weak to deal with him in a Thuggish manner and just said I was hungry, so he offered to make a bowl of soup for me. I managed that and said I didn't feel like going to the Club that evening and I was intrigued with this problem I couldn't do so I would have another go at it. I still got nowhere and put it down to the tooth and the effect of the pills. I nagged at the problem in my head all day Saturday and, feeling a lot better, went to the Club with Oliver and the Aussie pair and the change did me good. It was either that or the three drams of whisky Brad insisted I had as, in his opinion, that was a sovereign remedy for any kind of ache, tooth or otherwise. I think the sight of Logan in his kilt bringing over each potion helped as well.

Sunday morning it was my turn for playing for the service. Whether it was the peace of the organ loft, or the sermon, but it was like the time I had the idea how to solve the code. Again, it was a visiting preacher. This time the theme was on different interpretations and he quoted from Ecclesiasticus about something that was translated into another tongue. 'Another tongue'. It must be like that other problem I'd solved. Look at it from a completely different angle. It then struck me that by using about four different known results the jigsaw would be completed. I was doubtful. Surely a problem as complex as that wouldn't have been set? Perhaps I was making a real mountain out of a molehill. I then had to stir my stumps and concentrate on being an organist as the Chaplain had taken over and was announcing the last hymn.

After lunch in Hall Oliver and I went for a walk along the river. He said I was quiet. Was it my tooth, or lack of it? I said I was still mulling over a rather recalcitrant problem and I thought I might have a rather tortuous solution. He just laughed and said I'd better write it out when I got back. He had plenty of work to do so I wouldn't be disturbed.

I spent about two hours setting out the proof as carefully as I could. I'd never had to tackle anything like this so I thought I really was going round the houses. I thought James Tanner would have a good laugh when he saw my circuitous efforts and show me in about half a dozen lines rather than in the three pages it had taken me.

Monday morning I met up with Fiona and Dina as usual and, after asking how I was, we sat through three lectures, scribbling frantically. As we walked back to College for lunch I asked how they had got on with the extra problem.

"What extra problem?" Fiona asked.

"That one at the end of Mike Maples' lecture," I said.

Dina was looking at me strangely. "Those were my notes. He only set the usual three problems and they were on the printed sheet..."

Fiona butted in, "....Yep, and they weren't too bad. You just had to use the results he'd gone over."

"I know," I said, "I managed those but I've spent the whole weekend over that fourth one and James Tanner will laugh his socks off at the cack-handed way I've tackled it!"

Dina said quite firmly. "There was no fourth problem set. Dr Maples put up something which had cropped up in his doctorate and he'd never been able to solve it. I just copied it down out of interest. Sorry, but I didn't note there was no solution..."

"But you've solved it?" asked Fiona, "You're sure?"

I nodded. "I think so." I said about the sermon and the different translations so I'd looked at it 'translated' as it were. Four different approaches were needed to get through all the steps. They were agog. We went back to my set and we sat at the dining table and I explained what I'd done.

"It looks OK to me," said Fiona.

"Explain that bit," said Dina.

I went through that bit of the proof again. Both girls nodded. "It makes sense," said Dina.

"You're seeing the Prof at two?" asked Fiona. I nodded. "We're coming too. I for one want to know if you're right." Dina nodded as well..

I was in a bit of a daze. Anyway we had a quick lunch and kept off the topic of mathematics. With Francis as the next Pennefather Scholar and the news that Zack was to be the Servant of the Chapel when Boz left at the end of the year, Dina's brother had decided he wanted to be a doctor like his Mum and was in his First Year Sixth and would be applying to the College the following year. I said Oliver's brother, Eddie, was coming up next year to read Medicine and I let slip that, if he passed his A Levels, Jason would be a student here, too, reading History.

I think the girls were more excited than I was when we went up to James Tanner's room just on two o'clock. There was a cheery 'Come in!' when I knocked and a quizzical look as the three of us entered.

"Sorry, James," I began, "But Fiona and Dina insisted they came..."

I got no further. Fiona was holding the pages of my proof. She launched into the explanation of their presence as they wanted to know if I had solved the intractable problem. I think James Tanner was rather stunned as he took the pages and started to read them through. He got up and cleaned a blackboard and started to write out what I'd written. Then he turned to me.

"Mark, come over here and you do the rest."

I took the pages from him and over the next twenty minutes went through what I thought was the proof. James was sitting at his desk and I got the same treatment as before. He sat staring intently at me his chin resting on his hands. There was absolute silence for at least five minutes.

"Mark, it's OK, there are no logical flaws as far as I can see. One word. Congratulations."

He stood up, came over to me and hugged me. I looked at Fiona and Dina. They were both crying. They rushed up and the four of us hugged each other.

As we parted from each other there were smiles now. "I must 'phone Mike and tell him the news. That little knot has been around for at least the last ten years." He grinned. "I did have a think about it when it cropped up but Mike went on to produce some other rather useful results and that stayed on the back-burner as it were." He laughed. "It has implications of more than one kind. But there's also this...."

He went over to his desk and took up a letter with a couple of pieces of paper attached. He handed them to me.

"It's a letter from the editor of the 'Annals'. They've accepted your note.."

"What note?" demanded Fiona striding over to have a look. "Oh my God, Mark, you have been hiding your light under a bushel! Tell us?"

I was quite embarrassed. I hadn't told them anything about it as I didn't know if it was good enough to get published. But here were the page proofs to be read over. I explained as best I could.

"You should have told us," said Dina, "I couldn't do anything like that." She looked at James. "I enjoy doing Maths but I could never find out new things like that."

"But you are a good mathematician," said James, "You understand, but you're right, there is something else if you can take things further. Let's hope Mark can do even more."

That was praise enough for me.

I had to go and see Dr Maples and explain my proof. He said that bloody problem had niggled him ever since it had cropped up. He'd even given details of it at a conference. He was so pleased someone had tackled it at last. He just laughed when I told him the circumstances. "New rule," he said, "If you have a knotty problem cure it with toothache." That Friday he announced during the lecture that the problem had now been solved. I had got him to promise beforehand I wouldn't be singled out as he demonstrated the basics of the working out on the board, but it was fairly clear from his looks in my direction and the nudges from Fiona and Dina on either side of me who the culprit was! The result of all that was another submission to a learned journal. So, in a way, I'd solved another mystery.

Term ended but I stayed up to oversee the music preparations for The Wedding! Most of the choir volunteered to stay on and there were some coming along from previous years when Ivo and 'Tory were in the choir themselves. Francis and the other lads had been roped in as ushers and he demanded that he should come up the day before to make sure all arrangements were in place as he was to be Chief Usher. I said if he misbehaved he'd end up not having his balls tickled as in the celebrated picture but having them removed. I could almost hear the sneer over the 'phone.

"Anyway, I shall be eighteen and you can take me to that Club on the Friday evening. Zack will be there as well and I want to see it. And what am I getting for my present?"

OK, OK. If he wasn't taken to the Club I would never hear the end of it. I warned everyone the week before and the lads, having met him at the recitals, said bring him along. He and Tris turned up early afternoon on the Friday with their morning suits in Moss Bros carriers. Frankie also had a large haversack and a couple of other parcels. Zack followed soon after, with his own Moss Bros carrier. There was also something afoot and I wondered if the pair were planning high jinks of some sort at the wedding reception. Better to keep out of it.

Frankie insisted on bringing his haversack to the Club when we set out.

As soon as he got there he said he wanted to go to the loo and Zack went with him, 'to show him the way'. Young boys, all excited, need to empty their bladders, I thought. I went through with Oliver and Tris and the usual throng were already gathered. Brad looked resplendent, as usual, in highly polished boots and his leather gear was immaculate. Carlo was telling some tale about another arrest they'd made and Raph brought over drinks, which he said Godders had paid for, just as his brother and Josh came in and spun him round to be inspected. "You'd look even better in those bloody budgie-smugglers you flaunted your fucking self in when we were in Italy!" Raph gave him an English two-fingers and then had to explain that the reference was to his Speedos he wore which had caused a slight sensation when he strolled on the beach near Rapallo. I said my Uncle's clothing was just as ravishing with him in it and Gabe had the grace to say his brother was ravishing, or fit to be ravished, in anything he wore.

We were all sitting comfortably and sipping our drinks when there was a great commotion and the DJ put on a roll of drums over the system. Everyone was clapping and whistling as two figures came through the door leading from the loos. Francis and Zack.

The pair were arrayed in leather gear of varied sorts. Zack must have borrowed the cap, leather jacket and chaps from Whippet. They all looked familiar. He, like Brad, was wearing highly polished, almost to the knee, boots and looked stunning. By his side, as they reached our alcove, was Francis. I think we all goggled. He'd also borrowed a leather cap. Again it must have been Whippet's as I recognised the St Mark's badge. He had one of Unc's beautiful shirts on and across that was leather harness with highly polished buckles. Below was a sight like no other! He was wearing jeans which had been artfully cut open at the front, though buckled at the waist with an ornate belt. Protruding from the front was the pouch of a well-filled black leather jockstrap and, most visible, were his hairy, still sun- tanned, muscular thighs! All this was completed by leather chaps and a pair of motor-cycle boots. The whistling and shouts crescendoed as they bowed and turned to display themselves to the admiring audience.

They were grinning like the pair of young demons they were as they sat on the chairs placed for them by Raph and Bulgy-Boy. Curt left his place behind the bar and presented them each with highly decorated cocktails of some sort. "Compliments of the Management," he said before scuttling back, to loud applause as all he was wearing were a pair of very small, and very tight, denim cutoffs, to the bar. As things quietened I found out they'd planned all this ready for a night next term but this seemed a good opportunity. It all stemmed from Frankie saying to Whippet that he wanted 'something leather' for his birthday. The parcel handed over at the recital contained the leather jockstrap. Whippet had dared him to wear it. Giving Toad a dare meant it would be a certainty. The pair had borrowed the rest of the gear from Whippet, except for the motor-cycle boots which were a spare pair of Adam's. The jeans had been 'operated' on by Jack whose Uncle Lionel was a tailor and Jack had watched him work many times and knew about cutting and sewing. He had used his mother's sewing machine and if Statistics proved not to be the chosen career then he could learn tailoring, he had said!

It was certainly an evening to remember. Even with all the gear on Frankie lumbered round the floor, clutched by a very visibly tumescent Danny. "Couldn't help it," he stage- whispered to Jonty, "That's really sexy pushed up against you!" Of course, that meant Frankie had several more partners who wanted the feel of that cod-piece against their more sensitive parts. At the end of the evening the pair insisted they walked back to College dressed as they were. Luckily, for a December night, it was not too cold and not raining.

That evening set us all up in such a good mood for the wedding the next day. Of course, when it had been announced, Charles was over the moon. With his admired friends involved nothing could be too much trouble. He insisted, as Assistant Bursar, there would have to be a substantial College input. The reception would be held in the Hall. No hiring of any outside facility. Cheffie and the two second chefs were roped in to design and prepare a sumptuous meal, 'fit for the garlanded pair' as he put it. The guest list, in the end, was enormous and the whole occasion was stupendous. Not only was everyone it seemed in England there but Unc and Aldo brought Ernesto, Guido and Pietro over from Italy. In fact, Pietro and Brandon were adorned in newly designed Matteoli suits and were 'pages d'honneur' as Toad and Crapaud had been at the French wedding. As all the Ulvescott family had been invited so Saf's sons, Jeremy and Andrew, were similarly arrayed as the ring-bearers. 'Tory's two younger sisters were the bridesmaids and had dark-red elbow- length gloves also designed by Uncle Francesco to go with the beautiful just-lighter red dresses they wore. 'Tory's dress was a stunning creation - by Unc's principal designer - and the whole caboodle was in the next issue of one of the so-called 'celebrity' magazines. Of course the principle guests from Ulvescott were the Sheik, Colonel Cameron-Thomson and Dr Thomson, with sons, grandsons and partners. Frankie, as Principal Usher, was in charge of that party and they filled a substantial part of the family side of the pews.

The whole service was superb. I had chosen the music carefully and the anthem during the exchange of rings was a reduction Oliver had made of Parry's 'I was Glad' and he had also written a short introductory piece which I played as the couple knelt for the service to begin. On the altar was the open copy of my Book of the Hours brought from the Fitzwilliam Museum by the uniformed guard, Sergeant Carl Bachman, who was sitting in the organ loft watching carefully. But the major highlight was, after the blessing of the pair and before the walk to the vestry to sign the register, the Master, in full scarlet robes of a Doctor of Science, reading out a greeting from the King of Rothenia who sent his blessing to the pair and his wishes for a long and happy union. What we had learned was that the King was English as well as Rothenian and Ivo had made a great impression already with his diplomacy and the ability to speak the language quite fluently. One of the guests was the elderly man who had taught him the language. 'Tory had also made her mark as she was teaching English to a couple of the younger sprigs of the Royal Family and was consulted by many of the Palace staff about English customs.

Adam's speech, as best man, was so good and so funny we all had tears of laughter running down our cheeks. He recounted numerous tales of Ivo's doings and managed to cast himself as second string or victim in Ivo's exploits and we well knew the pair had always worked in tandem. After the toasts there was dancing in the adjacent students' Junior Combination Room, fumigated and tastefully decorated! Luckily, none of our group mentioned much about the previous evening and, more than luckily, no one suggested that Zack and Frankie might appear in their leather magnificence. However, during the morning Frankie had volunteered to be the guide for the Ulvescott group as they were having a private viewing of the cellars. He was urbanity itself and, with the Sheik holding on for support as they negotiated the stairs, he showed off the first cellar with aplomb, but when they entered the second cellar the Sheik and the Colonel clutched him and were convulsed with laughter. It was here that the Toad-self appeared and presented the Sheik and the Colonel with autographed copies of the postcard, showing him and the Ivo/Adam depiction, with the words 'I have these ready for my fan-club at no extra cost'. A grinning Toad survived the attack by the jointly wielded walking-sticks of the Sheik and the Colonel as he distributed cards to all the laughing group.

That wedding night, as the night before, Frankie and Zack were staying with Oliver, Tris and me in the set. On Friday night we were all pretty tired and Frankie had rolled himself up in a sleeping bag in the main room. On the wedding night Frankie joined Tris and me in the four-poster bed while Zack went with Oliver in the other. Very quietly Frankie said he wanted to experience all the love that I and Tris could give him. Both Tris and I had loved the other pair fully so they knew the journey upon which Frankie was about to embark. While they pursued their own love-making that night, Tris and I took Francis on that satisfying pilgrimage where the final barriers of male love are surmounted and overcome. As Tris kissed and caressed him I drew Frankie's wonderfully rich boycream from him in the most satisfying way I knew. While he was still descending from that pinnacle of ecstasy I prepared him and, as gently as I could, entered, and gave him my own love offering. Before I withdrew I laid over him and touched his lips with mine. He was murmuring too low to hear what he was saying but I knew they were words of love and great contentment.

Gradually, and just as gently, Tris took my place and Francis received the equal to that Royal blessing from his dearest and greatest friend - no, more than that - a second big brother. I knew that Frankie adored Tris and Tris was more than fond of Frankie. Now, they were showing that mutual love and affection with Frankie giving himself openly and fully. As with me that coupling took no time. Both of us had been so, so ready to give ourselves I hoped that Francis wouldn't feel he had just been used. After Tris had withdrawn we lay and held each other until Tris drew that second draught of life-force from a gurgling, panting young god. Their own love-making finished, the other pair somehow joined us and we huddled together, five tall, lithe young men who loved each other, and respected each other, and valued each other, and wanted only the best for each other.

Zack and Oliver left us for their own bed and the three of us slept and dreamt and I felt that presence that had been elsewhere with us and had protected me here. There was a quiet happiness and a stillness. As I woke I wished Ivo and 'Tory as much happiness as I felt we had been blessed with that night.

Over that Christmas holiday at home Francis slept with both Tris and me and we experienced his powerful young body as he entered us and filled us with his copious outpourings. Later he said that he had been through the most intense feelings throughout but it was that sensation of being able to let go without worry, or anything between us, that had been so liberating for him as he'd always had a slight fear when he had been with either of the girls. I said he was lucky in that we knew we had nothing to fear from each other, but, if he decided to explore male love any further he must take precautions of the same sort. He smiled. "My male love is for you and Tris and perhaps Zack and Oliver one day," he said, "But I know what I want in the end."

So, two more terms, my Final examinations and my time at Cambridge was likely to be over. In my time there I had experienced both mystery and mayhem, as well as certain solutions and triumphs. But for me, the greatest mystery was still to come.

What was my life to be in the future?

THE END

[All my stories can be found on awesomedude.com under Joel as well as on Nifty - see under prolific authors. The editions on aweomedude have errors and omissions corrected as far as possible. Perhaps, in the future, there might be another tale to add!]