Date: Fri, 19 Jan 2007 22:11:01 +0000 From: Jo Vincent Subject: Mystery and Mayhem at St Mark's: 24 Mystery and Mayhem At St Mark's by Joel Some of the Characters Appearing or Mentioned: Mark Henry Foster The story-teller: Pennefather Organ Scholar Tristan (Tris) Price-Williams His well-proportioned boyfriend Professor James Tanner Mark's Maths tutor Paul Phillips A friendly solicitor, companion of Professor Tanner Jacob Van Zyl Aother friendly solicitor but badly crippled Paulus Andriessen Jacob's companion Charles Fane-Stuart Research Student and Assistant to the Bursar Brigadier Robert Taylor The Bursar Mrs Wendy Chalfont-Meade The Bursar's Secretary Drew Penry-Jones Senior Organ Student Boswell Johnson BA(Cranwell) The new Servant of the Chapel Benjamin Mostyn Organ Scholar [2002] Jason Knott A newly minted Porter Liam Moore A Lodge Boy Sean O'Malley Servery lad and Lodge Boy 24. Christmas Term Begins 2002 It was nice having a few days getting ready for the term without the rush of lectures, tutorials and so on. We were up the next morning early as usual, even though our love-making had continued until both had been satisfied and replete with those feelings that had become so much a part of our relationship. Our run was shorter. Although we had both swum and walked on holiday we were not at that peak of condition we felt we were at before embarking on our summer jaunt. We knew that Oliver would join us, and perhaps the Aussies, when term began, so we resolved to make it a permanent fixture in our day again. Tris went off to Jacob's office to be there by nine when it opened as he said there was a stack of documents to be dealt with. Some to be taken to the Italian Fellow in one of the other colleges to get the legal and other documents translated, others to prepare for prospective franchisees. I knew he was overjoyed at getting this firsthand knowledge of how a busy solicitor's office worked. I spent the morning in Cambridge shopping and browsing. There was music to choose, there was new crockery and some more elegant wineglasses to purchase, and there was food to buy to stock the fridge and small freezer. As I came out of Green Street opposite Sidney Sussex College I was surprised to spot Drew in earnest conversation with a bespectacled young man who looked the usual type of God Squad material. Funny, I hadn't seen any sign of Drew yesterday and his pigeon-hole had been full of letters and notices just as mine had been. I dived into Sainsbury's and contemplated the range of Italian foods and decided we would have Indian that evening. As soon as I got back through the College gateway I found Charles with young Liam, complete with clipboards. Liam went off towards one of the other staircases while Charles hailed me and walked with me towards ours. "Mark, dearest, I hope you aren't suffering from the lack of sun here, your tan really sets off your features." He laughed. "Perhaps we could plan a modest divertissement before it fades, say of the Dear Old Queen and a dusky Eastern retainer." The clipboard was waved. "But no, I feel I could not age enough for that just yet." Charles was in a very happy mood. The clipboard was waved again. "Have you a moment?" I nodded. Charles lowered his voice and became almost confidential. "Allow me to vouchsafe you a peek at my old abode now ready for my successor." We walked to the front door and stood by the entrance to his 'old abode'. He opened both doors and I was ushered in, not expecting what I then saw. The whole place was transformed. It was no longer garish, over-dressed with fabric and smelling 'like a Turkish brothel', as Adam had snidely whispered to me one day. All the pictures of Charles in his various manifestations were gone, including the stunning one of him as a platinum blonde beauty. Now, the dark wood panelling was gleaming, the old carpet on the floor had been replaced, and the windows were hung with brightly coloured plainer fabrics which complimented the rest of the subdued, very expensive-looking, decor. Rather expensive-looking paintings were hung around. What a change! He bowed. "Mother's gift to the College," he said. "Mother does have good taste when she is allowed." I said it was a wonderful transformation. He laughed and said all the old tat had been gratefully received by the wardrobe department of the local theatre and he was looking forward to seeing a production there using his old curtains. I asked him about his own vacation and suggested he told me about it over coffee. As I laid the tray, displaying some of my morning's purchases before him, I asked, "But, your hair?" He put a hand up and ran two fingers through the wave above his left ear. "Mother insisted I had it shorn before embarking on the voyage across the great divide. Her next client, after the Scottish baronial mansion owner, and the one I was to meet first, was a clean-living Baptist from a good and honest working background who prayed to the Good Lord each morning in thanks for the abundance He had bestowed upon him, as he told me in fog-horn tones at that initial meeting. Mother had thought on a previous meeting with him he might not take kindly to my preferred appearance." He was off. He was a superb actor. Every character in his tale was vividly portrayed, even to the accents. I felt quite privileged as I was the only audience. He dropped his voice and leaned forward. "I need not have worried. Both he and his unmarried son made advances to me before the week was out. Advances, I might add which were strongly repelled." He sat back and smiled, a satisfied smile. "I took a leaf out of dear Alexandra's book and the younger Mr Crannock did not appear for dinner that evening and was last seen driving his Hummer at breakneck speed away from the premises." I wasn't sure if this wasn't a rehearsal for a reincarnated, new model Charles, from the ashes of Clarissa, but I persisted. "And Mr Crannock Senior?" He raised his left hand. "Very simple. After he had described in graphic terms what terrors might befall me in the privacy of his library, I merely asked if the scenario was of such a Biblical nature as those I was to discuss with the Reverend JoeBob Buttle that afternoon as possible depictions on his entrance hall walls and would ask his advice. He did go rather red and had to loosen his collar and I left to consult with the good Reverend with the promise of a substantial reward for my forbearance of thoughts which only the Evil One could have planted." He shook his head. "I then endured two hours of Apocalyptic ravings of a very vivid nature from a sweet-faced, white-haired, eighty-year-old, whose Biblical knowledge seemed to be confined to the more graphic portions of the book of Revelations." He sighed. "I was not unhappy to leave that demented household. Poor Mrs Crannock wrung her hands at my departure as I found her the only sane person as the retainers, all elderly, seemed bowed with care and troubles of their own, and she, poor soul, only wanted news of the two shows I had seen on Broadway and the joys of London." "Charles...," I said, hardly believing a word, but staring at the very expensive looking wristwatch he was wearing. Was that bought with the reward for forbearance? "...And after that?" "Mother polished off that one in no time at all. The Reverend JoeBob had three granddaughters who were competent draughtswomen and they were left in charge. At least they were not imbued with the Hellfire and Damnation as they had spent time in more civilised climes and one told me, when in a confidential mood, that she would see that the murals contained hidden references to more earthly delights." He laughed. "But I continue. The major assignment after that was another huge house to be decorated in 'the Italian style', statuary, urns, handmade furniture, Pompeiish wall paintings and mosaic flooring, all in abundance." His arms flayed the air and I had fears of volcanic destruction of my expensive new porcelain. "My dear, the owners had so much money it was unbelievable! He was big in diggers. Huge monsters tearing up the landscape in State after State. They were sweeties though. He was positively cuboid and she was blonde, facially reconstructed, but well-read." He snickered. "He was insistent that the male statues were complete and had ticked off a long list from the Vatican Museum and was incensed he could not buy the originals even though mutilated. She, dear thing, had volumes of Herculaneum and Pompeii and a hoard of painters copying exquisite depictions of peacocks, flowers, all sorts of animals and views on the vast walls of the mansion. Mother had to work round all this and I was dispatched to, of all places, a film studio where the main bodies of the statues were to be constructed. It was most embarrassing. I have to tell you the innuendos were too gross even for dear Clarissa to contemplate." My turn to laugh. "And who modelled for the extras?" Surely not Charles himself. "Mark," he said severely, "If I tell you this, you promise not to impart the knowledge to third-parties." I held up both hands and showed him my fingers crossed. "Of course not!" "Dear Tristan at least I allow," he said, taking a delicate sip from the porcelain cup I had earlier feared for. "But, I was given an address of another studio. I did not realise the nature of the films produced there." His voice took on a tinge of horror. "I had to inspect a whole row of young men who might be chosen to provide the replicas and they wanted to know what a Limey was doing peering at their possessions. Not said in such refined terms I can assure you. I found their animosity was due mainly to their fears of not being in the selected group." A hand was raised. "Poor dears, so anxious, but all were most apologetic and very friendly after I pointed at each in turn and said they would all be immortalised in stone rather than in the ephemerality of film. I did not point out the statues were to be cleverly made from plaster and their contributions were of like kind. That said, Mr Tommasini was so pleased with the results I was awarded a substantial personal bonus." I didn't enquire what he may have spent that on. "And you're back here in dull old Cambridge?" He laughed. "I hear your holiday was of a restful nature on the whole. The lovely Oliver sent me several cards with closely written descriptions of the joys of the Villa and its inhabitants and tells me he has formed a relationship with a delightful boy. I understand he is that inestimable Fiona's younger brother." I said we all approved and Zack was also an inestimable character and there was an even younger brother whose character was of the highest quality, too. He smiled. "I am so pleased for Oliver, he did seem rather lost for a time." He contemplated the plate of biscuits and then reached out and took one. "Of course, dear Father has been most attentive, too, in his own sweet way. I am loath to intrude on his generous nature at the Villa but he has arranged for Mother and I to spend Christmas and the New Year in Venice. I do not think Mother has the inclination to settle down yet, she is too set in her career and I feel I must support her in her endeavours however wearing on my sensibilities." I thought, old fraud, I can see you've enjoyed every minute of it! He indicated the clipboard which he had beside him on the sofa. "But then, I may have found my avocation. There is much news of a happier sort here. The Master has been informed that...." He paused. I knew he was having some sort of difficulty. I nodded in support as he looked straight across at me. "...Mr Finch-Hampton has willed his house and all his possessions to the College." He breathed in deeply. "There, I've said it. It was a quite unexpected gift, but there would seem to have been some falling-out in the past between various members of the family when he inherited the house in the first place. The Master has asked me to supervise the refurbishment in due course so that it can become a valued adjunct to the College as further student accommodation. The Bursar is most happy this task has been removed from his shoulders and has indicated a permanent position might be mine in view of my organisational abilities." He smiled. "I think I have found my future place in College." "That's marvellous," I said. "But what about your research?" The hands were raised again. "My dear, that goes on apace. I have been helped most generously by the University Library who have taken on the task of photo-copying and transferring to disk all the readable, and even unreadable, manuscripts of successive Servants of the Chapel. I am concentrating on the 1500's as this was a time of turmoil and trouble as you well know. There are mysteries there, too, and I must take advice where I can. It is a task of transcribing at the moment and the Master and Dr Henson are content to give me board and lodging in recompense for the other duties as well. I am very happy and I have been helped greatly by dear Professor Jensen when he was here last week." "But the limousine....?" His hands performed their usual ballet. "I have been camping out aloft. A meagre blanket or two have sufficed, but the rooms have been prepared ready for me. Mother hired the car as usual to bring my possessions from the flat in town. The boys have taken them up and I must unpack them later." We finished the coffee and he said he would have to go as he had things to report to the Bursar before he could attend to his own necessities. I also noted I hadn't been invited to peek at his new abode, Tris's old room. I wondered if a couple of statues with pendant un- Cellini proportioned willies were guarding the door, and the walls adorned with murals of the racier sort from Pompeii. Definitely not the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse that would be for sure! I spent the afternoon in the Chapel playing. Again, I had missed that wonderful feeling of discipline and release at the same time over the past three months. That relation between keyboards and the sound produced was akin to being with my Tris and I played through the Cesar Franck Cantabile with him fixed in my mind. That solo in the tenor register soared out and I made every note a personal message of my love and devotion. After about two hours I felt I was getting back to a semblance of my previous standard. When I came down from the loft I found Jason and young Liam busily polishing the brass of the lamps on the choir stalls and the big brass candlesticks from beside the altar. "Thank you, Mr Foster," Jason said, "We saw you come in and took the opportunity of preparing the Chapel for the new Servant. I said to Liam I particularly liked the Herbert Howells but he preferred the more robust Choral Song." "The Wesley?" "Yes, sir," he said, surveying a shining, thickly decorated stem of the candlestick. I was rather flabbergasted. Here was Jason displaying another unsuspected talent. "Do you play?" I asked. "Yes," he said, eyeing up the second immense candlestick, "I help out my great-Aunt Mildred at the Methodist Chapel when I can." "Leave that," I said, "I want to hear." He seemed hesitant. Liam nudged him and whispered "Go on, Jase". I led the way up to the loft and switched on. "Music," I said, indicating the orderly rack of volumes. He didn't answer and took nothing, but selected my favourite Flutes, 8ft and 4ft on the Choir and the same on the Swell and a single 8ft on the Great. "Sorry, sir," he said pressing his fingers together, "Wrong shoes, so it will have to be manuals only." He launched into a Gavotte by Camidge I had often played. He changed manuals with aplomb and pointed up the numerous changes in the cheerful tune as it rippled along. Liam was smiling and nodding his head. Oh, Jason, you do amaze me! He turned and also smiled as he finished. "First time here, thank you." I just said "Thank you," back. Then I found he'd taken Grade Eight and I said he really should go further. I heard then, as well as his promotion, the Chaplain had persuaded the Bursar to let him have a day off a week to attend the local Sixth Form College with a view to A Levels. "Mr Adam said he'd help with the History when he comes back." I didn't know that. My kind-hearted cousin had not mentioned it, but Jason said it was all arranged last term. History, Geography and Economics were his chosen subjects, and two others had been lined up to help him, too. I said if he promised to work I would hear him play on Thursday mornings after early Chapel and try to give him advice for a diploma. Liam was nudging him again. "You go for it, Jase!" "And what about you, Liam?" I asked. He grinned. "Five nights a week at the gym," said Jason, "Budding little welter-weight he'll be, eh, Liam?" Gosh, yes, I could see the sturdiness of his frame. "My brother's in the Army, he's a PTI," said Liam, really the first time I'd heard him say more than a 'Yes' or 'No'. "I might join up when I'm eighteen but Mr Tomkins says I'll be better off here. Connor's worried about Iraq and says it's better to be kicked around by Jase here than be blown up there." Jason slapped him on the back. "And if we don't get down there and finish the polishing Mr Fane-Stuart will give you one with his clipboard again." He turned to me. "Liam's taking over some of my duties helping the Servant of the Chapel and Mr Charles has been instructing him. Liam'll help me with the Pennefather set as well. Mr Charles says it's a double now. I can assure you Liam is one for neatness and tidiness." And one to hold his tongue I hoped. "Have you seen the request for a desk?" I asked as we went down the stairs into the Chapel. Tris was going to leave one at the Porter's Lodge as he went past this morning. "Yes," said Jason, "Mr Fane-Stuart says there is a very nice one surplus to requirements in Mr Finch-Hampton's old set." He nudged Liam this time. "Young Liam will be exercising his muscles helping Mr Marlowe dismantle it and reassemble it tomorrow afternoon, if that is convenient. If we come with you now you can show us where you would like it." Mr Marlowe was the main-tain-ance man, who in overalls and belt holding tools of every description, kept most of the College in working order, and had said my set was not damaged by the leak from above. But there were other things. I wondered if Liam exercised one particular muscle, his tongue. This might upset certain arrangements if he did so. Arrangements which were so obvious as I led the pair into our bedroom. I hadn't tidied up. Cast-off running gear for two was on the bed. The Manchester United duvet was folded half back where we had slid out of the bed to get ready for our run. Yesterday's socks and pants were either side of the bed. No sign of nightwear though. Two unopened suitcases were on the other, unmade, single bed. It didn't take much to realise that two rather large lads had shared the four-poster the night before. Perhaps just to keep each other company? Perhaps to keep each other warm against the coming rigours of a Cambridge winter? Perhaps to fuck like two happy bunnies? Take your pick, Liam, I thought. I think Liam realised the full import of the situation and, while Jason measured widths and depths like a modern-day Figaro, he busied himself folding running shorts, jockstraps, and tops and putting those and the trainers on the shelves by the wardrobe. He folded back the duvet after shaking it gently to make certain the filling was even and put socks and underpants in a pile in the wicker basket we kept for things waiting to be laundered. He turned and smiled. "I can be available each morning, Mr Foster," he said, "If it is not convenient some signal, perhaps. Mr Leadbetter puts a red elastic band on his door handle but he has a double with Mr Farson this year." Leadbetter? Farson? Yes, the chunky lad who played in Ivo's team last year was Leadbetter if I remembered rightly. Farson? I thought hard. Yes, he was a rather foppish young man who was one of the drinking and eating club band. A liaison, as Charles had said about the new doubles? "No need," I said, "We've resolved to go running every day unless the weather's too bad. Just clatter about if we're still comatose, but with all we're involved in I think early mornings will be general. It's just the dirty laundry I worry about. Why not come in after nine if Jason can spare you." "The bed will be changed once a week, and I will see all is ready for washing on Friday mornings," Liam said, with no emphasis on the singular 'bed'. "If I'm not available my step-brother will attend to you and could do the washing." "Sean?" "Yes," said Jason, putting a protective arm round Liam, "Liam's Mum died three years ago and Sean's Dad went off so after the divorce there was a wedding last year. Liam's lived next door to us since he was born. Known him since he was in nappies, eh?" I laughed. "You couldn't have been out of them long then." They both laughed and I knew that tight lips were the order of the day. Tris was full of news when he arrived back at College just after half past five. I was in my study looking over another sheaf of notes I'd found stuffed in my pigeon-hole after the lads had left. Professor Tanner was a stickler for work and the Second Year stuff I could see followed on well from what I'd done before. But there was lots of it. Confidence was needed, though. "Hi, precious one," he said as he flung his arms round me, it was obvious who he'd just bumped into. "Just seen Charles and the news is out." "Pinch-Bum's Will?" "Yeah! You heard?" I nodded as he stroked the top of my head. "Bugger was loaded! Best news is that the executors' got in touch with Jacob and if he doesn't sue the estate they'll pay for anymore reconstructive surgery and convalescence. Pauli says that's best for all so Jacob's arranging to have the next lot done in a couple of weeks, then there'll be a major do once that's healed and all should be over. He'll be walking again." He laughed. "Pauli says he'll enter him for the Marathon then!" He bent and kissed my ear. "They're so nice. It's wonderful. Your James and Paul have been together since they were at school and Jacob and his Pauli are the same. I had lunch with Jacob today and he told me a bit about what happened when he was at school in South Africa and how he was chucked out and came here when his cousin ratted on him. He said he was apart from Pauli for nearly four years and it nearly broke his heart. He said that James and Paul had been such good friends to him and James thinks you're good, too. I said I wouldn't tell you that, but he said there shouldn't be secrets, so you know now, bighead!" "James said that about us being friends?" I asked, turning on my chair and making him sit on my lap. "No, you dumbcluck, he thinks you might have a little brain somewhere else than in the tip of your dick. Oooh!" He laughed. "You're probably like those dinosaurs who had two brains, one in their head and the other up their arse, yours has just shifted a bit." He wriggled his arse against my immediate erection. I'll make him go Ooooh! Properly!! "If you keep doing that you'll be having a late supper." He got up, put his arms round me and kissed me deeply. "That'll keep you nicely ready for later," he said, "Now, you tell me about your day and I'll tell you more about mine." We had an early supper and chatted all through it. I heard more about Jacob and his background, I filled him in on Charles's saga. He was starving and the kitchen was filled with the rich aroma of a variety of Indian dishes. I'd added a platter of cut banana and tomatoes to the array, with two jars of special chutney. Tris had a very satisfied look as he mopped the last remnants with the remains of piece of naan bread. "I must say that a hint of spices and ginger does a power of good to the loins. No wonder India's overcrowded," he said with the usual lascivious look in his eye. "Here, let's leave this and go and sit. I'll take the Heineken in, just stick the plates in the sink." Good. I also favoured the possible effects of the spicy food and was just contemplating what it might result in a bit later after finishing the cold beer, when there was a discreet knock on our outer door. "I'll go," said Tris, "Can't think who it can be." I had just come back in from the kitchen as he ushered in the bespectacled young man I'd seen in conversation with Drew. Oh, bloody hell, I thought, another one after our souls and why had Tris succumbed to his entreaties to be saved? He saw me and smiled an apologetic smile. "Sorry to intrude, but I'm Boswell Johnson and I'm supposed to meet Charles Fane-Stuart and he's not around. I'm the new Servant of the Chapel." Tris laughed. "Charles will be around somewhere. Have you met him before?" Boswell's eyes twinkled as his face broke into a grin. "Have I? Bowled over is not the word." He looked at us. "Which one's the Pennefather Scholar?" Tris pointed to me. "Dad was about thirty or so years ago," he said, laughing. "Hasn't stopped talking about it yet. He's organist at our church." He smiled most engagingly. "Congrats. I'm not musical at all, just about keep my end up amongst the basses." I was immediately taken with Boswell. What did we know about him? Graduate of elsewhere. High Anglican. That was all. We were interrupted in this by a brisk knock. I went this time. It was Charles in a real tizz. "Darling Mark, I am so late! You have Boswell here?" I nodded as he rushed past me. "The Brigadier insisted I join him in another port after dinner. Poor Mrs Taylor realised I had another engagement but he was so resolute I could not refuse. I think he is kept on a short leash while at home where drink is concerned." He had spied Boswell who was standing more or less hidden by Tris. "Boswell, my dear, I apologise abjectly. You have introduced yourselves?" "Glass of beer?" asked Tris, knowing that Charles preferred a gin and tonic. Charles held up an admonitory finger. "I have supped sufficiently but I am sure Boswell could be accommodated while I go upstairs to fetch his keys." He turned and rushed out again. We stood and grinned at each other. Tris held up his can. Boswell nodded. Tris went out to the kitchen. I indicated he should sit. "Who's the Brigadier?" he asked as he sat. "The Bursar," I said, "Charles is hoping to take over his job sometime, I think. He's a great organiser and the Bursar certainly isn't, and that's well-known." I knew that as I'd had occasion to see him about a leak in the wind supply to the Great soundboard and had to stick some adhesive tape over the hole and waited for three weeks before the organ builders were contacted. Charles was back, carrying not only a most impressive bunch of keys but also a thick notebook and the Servant's gown over his arm. "For you," he said, handing over the keys, "You will be formally invested with the gown, however, on Sunday at the beginning of Matins. I will be there to guide you through the ceremony. Quite touching as it dates back to the first Statutes." He held up the book. "Each Servant of the Chapel keeps a record of all happenings of interest in the Chapel and in the College. It is your turn to start a new journal. Mine is now entrusted to the safe-keeping of the Chaplain." "Charles is doing his BPhil on old records of the Servants," I said, "He's found some rather interesting things so far." "Hush," said Charles, holding up a hand, "Do not alarm him on his first day. Just record what you see and hear however trivial it may seem at the time. Our Porters do the same and their diaries have been most useful in retrieving lost items." That set him off and while the three of us supped our beer Charles launched into one of his vast monologues with a substantial gin and tonic to keep his throat from drying. We felt we were really back. They said their goodnights about ten o'clock. I said I would wash up in the morning and for our second night in our bed we replayed the previous night's scenario. Wednesday the Freshers started arriving in hordes. One of the first was the new Organ Scholar, Ben Mostyn, as his name label proclaimed. He seemed quiet but soon showed he had a mordant sense of humour as he described having been entreated, after his interview with the Chaplain and Dr Al-Hamed, by an insistent Drew that he should put away all evil thoughts and actions as such things would affect his playing, as well as his whole being and existence. As he was barely seventeen at the time, he said he'd been quite scared and almost refused the post until his father, the local vicar, had said he was no different from any other boy. Oh, another lad confessing to being a wanker and on the first meeting with me. But then he said his girlfriend was up at Girton as well this year. But I thought he'd be a real asset and with Boswell could be friends. Just had to explain the conjugations on the staircase, as Charles called them. I kept somewhat out of the way just seeing four of the six new members of the choir and chatting to Louie and Toby who were importuning anyone over six foot six to be members of the Boat Club. No, I think it was five foot ten as I saw two muscular youngsters of that ilk signing up. They'd look good in the College leotards I thought. Tris worked at Jacob's in the mornings on Thursday and Friday but manned the Basketball Club stand on both afternoons. Wow! I just loved seeing him in those long silky shorts waving his leaflets! I was getting rather lascivious and then I saw my favourite young ladies and that side of my temperature dropped a degree or two but I was so pleased to see them. They were side by side womaning - I decided to be PC - the Music Club and Debating Club stands. I was hugged and kissed by both, I think raising the expectations of a number of callow eighteen- year-old males who thought this was standard Cambridge practice and if they joined...? "Hi, gorgeous," said Dina, getting in a remark first for once. "Where's the other hunk?" I pointed along the row. "She's only jealous," said Fiona, "Louie's been in Switzerland all summer staying with his Gran so she's feeling deprived and at least Toby took me to up to Edinburgh. Looks good in a kilt, he does, it's those thighs." "Hussy! But I did go out and stay a fortnight and had a fab time," Dina said, Fiona laughed. "But not so grand as my evil little brothers. Villa Matteoli and a real live Count!" She poked my arm. "And you two and the others! The pair have made my life hell since they've been back. Mark this, Tris that! Oliver's had his work cut out keeping tabs on them and doing their homework and snatching the phone away as they're constantly sending Dad's phone-bills sky high. But God bless their little souls." She laughed. "Zack sends his best wishes and Brandon says he's used up all that bottle of body spray you gave him as all his pals got hold of it after PE and the master made a very inappropriate remark about their joint activities." She shook her head. "Nice to be back, though." I grinned. Brandon had sprayed Pietro liberally with it on the last day he was there and Pietro had also probably made a very inappropriate remark which made Nesto laugh but had refused to translate but we guessed it referred to dubious sexuality on Brandon's part. Yes, young Brandon and Pietro's wankathon! I bet that wasn't mentioned at home in polite company. Nor the remark Zack made to Oliver after his inspection of Brandon's over-used tool, "The pair of them would have torn each other to shreds with another night of the same!". "Done any work?" I asked, hurriedly banishing my thoughts to an inner recess of my brain, and brandished the copy of the lecture list I'd just picked up from my pigeon-hole. A second copy, this one marked up in red and green pen by James Tanner. "Bollocks," breathed Fiona, then waved a leaflet at a rather startled young lady. "Sorry, it just slipped out..." I forbore adding "...as the bishop said to the actress." Dina laughed. "What do you expect with two young brothers. But my brother Lucas is even worse. He has his own private swear-box in his room and last time I picked it up it weighed a ton and Mum says he should give it to his favourite charity." "You?" I said. She laughed and screwed up her nose. "But work....?" I said. They both shook their heads. Whereas I seemed to work all the time they appeared so much more laid back about it, but on the surface we were level-pegging. But no, Dina did have some difficulties and so did Fiona. They made up for these by really knowing the techniques they felt they could use. I plodded on never satisfied until I could deal with as much as possible. I was always looking forward, too. I wanted to know where a proof or a result might lead. I already had a notebook full of private jottings. "We'll start on Monday. Don't forget the Freshers' trek on Saturday. We'll be there and so will you!" They both waved goodbye and started haranguing the throng of passers-by and I wondered how much of the freely available fermented grape-juice of dubious quality they had already imbibed. Anyway, I was also clutching a polystyrene cup of the muck which I had accepted from the Flat Earth Society or the Crochet for Cretins Club, or whatever the stall before theirs was called, and moved on I felt very grand as a Second Year as I strolled around. But then, Tris was now a Third Year student. I had a sudden pang. Only one more year and we would be parted again. But my year would be full and so would his. I was ruminating on this, having ditched the cup and its vile contents in a convenient black sack, when I was accosted by a flustered Charles with a grinning Liam in tow, both armed with clip-boards. "Oh, Mark, sweetheart! We need assistance, a slight calamity has occurred." The clipboard was waved alarmingly. "Two of the sweet young things have had a hissy fit and will not share the set I had assigned them..." 'Hissy fit'. A few weeks across the Atlantic, I thought, and he was speaking like a native. "...How was I to know they were anathema to each other? The school was the same, their interests the same, even their post-codes were the same. I took all this as a hint of compatibility. But no! Both arrive this morning and glower at each other and spit veritable fire at poor wee Liam here who conducted them to their set. You are the only mediator and hope. They are both to be in the choir, though Decani and Cantoris I am sure.." "Are there two anywhere else who might share?" I said, "You could look for friends who have separate sets. Louie and Toby, they're great pals and you know them well. They've got quite poky sets on the same staircase." "Mark, you are an angel of loveliness and sweet reason. The set in question is quite ample in size." He looked at me craftily. "Would you be my go-between, I would not like either dear Louis or my erstwhile Paris, my invaluable Tobias, to think I had any plans for them other than through sheer necessity?" Casting two large, built-with-it, slabs of gorgeousness, in parts requiring the minimum of costume and the ability to link arms and high step and attempt the splits in the can-can, together with ten others of like magnificence, might be considered a task of some magnitude which he had accomplished with great virtuosity, and now he was asking me just to have a word with the pair, just in case they thought.... "OK, OK," I said, wondering if they would laugh, bat me between them like a pestilential fly, or fall on their knees sobbing out undying love for each other and this was the answer to their maidenly prayers. I doubted very much the third and they were too amiable for the second, so.... "I'll see what I can do. But it'll cost you. Tea for four in your new abode," I said, pointing from Liam, to me, to him and waving a finger in the general direction of Tris. "You stay here. Come on Liam!" Toby and Louie were having a slight rest from their labours of cajoling would-be rowers and were necking down a bottle of beer each. "Thirsty work this," said Louie, "Want one?" "No thanks, not at the moment," I said as Liam looked rather longingly at the array of bottles on the stand. "I am an emissary of goodwill and the bearer of certain suggestions for possible deliverance from those monkish cells you inhabit." They started to laugh, so point one wasn't too far off the mark. Go for it! My imitation of Charles' rodomontade had been recognised. "Unfortunately, Charles in his new role of Bursar-in-Waiting and General Cock- Up Merchant has managed to put two lads who hate each other's guts in a joint set and to prevent any bloodshed wonders if you would like to share?" Liam, still eyeing the bottles, held up his clipboard. "It's the set at the top of Staircase E. Fully furnished and the Bursar is willing to give a discount on gas used. There's plenty of cupboard space, too, and I reckon we might find a better fridge for the kitchen." They did laugh. They did agree. Liam had a look of triumph on his face as both presented him with a bottle of beer and I took a bottle, too. As we walked back to where Charles was lurking he stowed his bottles in an inner pocket of his black coat. "Poacher's pocket," he said. "You'd make a bloody good Estate Agent you little fraud," I said. "What's this about the Bursar's discount and a fridge?" He snickered. "There's a pipe some student must have put in years ago which can bypass the meter. I'll just give them the benefit a couple of mornings a week..." "And the fridge?" "There's a better one in Mr Mantegnant's old kitchen. I'll get it cleaned up a bit and swapped over and he'll think it's brand new. All sorted, Mr Fane-Stuart," he concluded as we came up to a less-harassed looking Charles. Even though it wasn't particularly warm he mopped his brow with a large, crisply laundered handkerchief. "My dears, such grateful thanks." He looked at his watch. Cartier I guessed. "Four o'clock sharp. That gives us time to impart the good news to those two ungrateful wretches. Come along Liam, I see one of them skulking by that hydrangea." I wandered over to Tris who was looking even more adorable in my eyes and told him tea at four. He looked slightly relieved as two young ladies were asking him if there was a Ladies' Basketball Club although a big sign pointed to the requisite stand. I skirted the mob and went to the Chapel and played for the next hour and wondered what was in store for later. Charles and Liam were already upstairs when Tris and I arrived. The door was flung open and the usual welcome was offered. I was more interested in the decor. It couldn't have been more different from his 'previous abode'. It matched very much the decor on the ground floor but colours were a delightful mix of autumnal shades with hints and flashes of colour. The only item in the main room which was familiar was the painting of Clarissa above the fireplace. There were artfully placed ceramics around with two table lamps and a very modern standard lamp. All in all, the whole place looked cosy and subdued and liveable in. "Do you approve, my dears?" he asked. We both grinned and nodded. No more needed to be said. There were no rampant statues on guard! "Liam and I have been discussing the placement of the new-comers. I think all has been very successful except for that regrettable pair." A hand was waved dismissively. "But even Masters Pretty and Awful...," "Orford," said Liam. The hand was dismissive again. "...Even they, although adjacent as at home, are not snarling and can easily avoid each other. They will need to be seen separately about their placement in the choir. Master Pretty says he's a tenor and Liam ascertained Master.." "Orford," said Liam. "...Can sing either alto or bass. A curious conjunction but possible, I am told." "Yes" I said, "We could use a good male alto, but where's the tea?" "Hush, do not be so precipitous. The kettle in on and Liam slipped out and found some pastries. Not too large for us as I intend to take you both for a meal in thanks for what dear Mark has accomplished for me." I snorted. "But he hasn't done anything except incite young ladies' passions with his golden tan and those shorts." I pointed in the general direction of his knees. Tris stretched his legs. Yes, quite sufficient to incite me. "I protest," I said, "I might have ended up in the Cam for suggesting that pair live together." "But, sweet one, we know they have other interests and there are two quite adequate and separate bedrooms in that set. I had arranged for a dividing partition to be erected rather than the flimsy curtain which served as in your dear cousins' set." "How long have you been angling for the job?" forthright Tris asked. Charles laughed. "I have been cultivating my acquaintance with the dear Bursar for the past year. He has been most attentive to my suggestions as it relieves him exercising those few cells left between his ears other than contemplating a long drive up the fairway or whether his dear lady wife has counted the glasses he has already consumed." He put his finger against his nose. "Mother did have a bottle of Chivas Regal which was spare and..." "...That has oiled the wheels, so to speak," Tris said and we both laughed. "Anyway I thought Bursars were usually old Army or Navy types..." Charles's hands were raised. "...Time to break the mould which has encrusted the workings of this College for too long...." "Wrong sort of mould..." persisted Tris. "...Dear soul, I am speaking figuratively of both." He paused. "What does a poor boy do whose first degree is not of the highest quality in the subject he chose to pursue?" He shook his head. I missed the swirling mane. "I am imbued with the social mores of such thinkers as dear Thomas Hobbes, Hume and poor Rousseau...." ".....Come off it! Machiavelli more like it..." said Tris with a countering flick of his hand.. "Touch‚, dear Tris. I must survive and I feel I have much to offer this College. It has been my home for the past four years and I would feel the wrench of parting deeply." He sighed. "There I have bared my soul. It is now for the Master to decide on my future. He has been most supportive in my endeavours and the...." He paused again. "...the Finch- Hampton Bequest, though not on a par with the value of the Pennefather, is not inconsiderable, and gives the College a good deal of leeway in its development. He has given me carte-blanche, as it were, subject to planning permission to develop the site of Hampton House. Old Dr Congreve the Fellow in Architectural Studies is to supervise and he does have a good reputation. So, I must look to the future..." Liam was listening attentively as well as pouring tea and handing round the tea-cakes. "Mr Tomkins says the College needs a kick up the arse. I'm quoting and he should know." "Too true, dear Liam, too true." There was a contemplative silence for a few moments but then I remembered what I wanted to find out. "The Bursar's discount, Liam? The pipes?" I asked, "Are they all over the place?" Liam looked at Charles who nodded. "Yes, Mr Foster, most of the sets have the extra pipe with extra taps..." Charles laughed and held up a finger. "...I shouldn't enquire too far as a certain Captain Henry Foster, Royal Engineers and a Captain Sven-Petter Jensen, Eleventh Hussars, would seem to be responsible for the planning and supervising the installation of pipework, at least on this staircase." "My Grandfather?" I said. "And Oliver's as well?" Tris added. "Correct," said Charles, trying hard not to laugh. "They appear in detail in the very comprehensive logs of the Servant of the Chapel of the day. But then what might you expect after the rigours of the War and that so-cold winter of '47." The finger was by the side of his nose again. "My dears, as you enjoy the discount all the time under the terms of the Pennefather Bequest I think sealed lips are in order, do you not agree? And I can assure you, precious Tristan, the desk, completely re-polished, will be installed in the morning. We have been a trifle engaged today, haven't we, young Liam? And for you dear Mark, a small something to display by those exquisite busts of Bach and Beethoven on your mantelshelf. I found it in my carry-on bag I brought from the States. A souvenir of that encounter with dear Mr Tommasini who so desperately wanted the David as the centrepiece of his collection. The modelling had to be exact." He went to a shelf and picked up a box and handed it to me. "You must look later as time presses. I have to return to tell Mrs Chalfont-Meade all has been accomplished. Come, Liam, the clearing-up can take place later." We took our leave promising to meet up at seven thirty for the walk to the Garden House Hotel. We escaped downstairs giggling together wondering how big the object was the box contained. I allowed Tris to open the box and there, all carefully wrapped in tissue paper, was a perfect replica of David's Ear, as supplied by the British Museum. We collapsed on the sofa. "What did you expect?" Tris asked through snorts of laughter, "The dick Michelangelo really wanted to carve?" "'Ear, 'Ear," I said and had to make a dive to catch the object as Tris threw it at me. We weren't surprised when Boswell also joined us that evening. I thanked Charles for the gift, with a straight face, and said Beethoven could have done with a spare one as he was deaf. We did not say what we expected to find. We'd wondered if Charles had secreted the whole range of the other models in his hand luggage and imagined the reaction of the Customs Officers if he'd been asked to open the bag. Anyway, the more I saw of Boswell the more I liked him and during the course of dinner we found that he had been rejected as a student by the College when he'd first applied as a Sixth-Former. What he said really incensed Charles who had to order another bottle of wine to calm his temper. "Yep," said Boswell, "I came up for interview. There was a crowd of us and we'd been shown round by a couple of the Third Year students who warned us of who we should go for, or avoid, for tutors." Tris laughed. "I had the same and my guide was reading Law and that was useful and he was one of Mr Fullerton's students and he praised him up. I didn't tell him he was a friend of Dad's but it was a recommendation." Boswell grinned. "My interview was disastrous. I said straight out I wanted to read History and Theology combined and the whole thing went pear-shaped. This little man went to town on me. I was subjected to a rant about the illogicality of religious belief and the study of History would show it's deleterious effect on about everything that had happened. He said he couldn't imagine anyone with half a brain wanting to study such clap-trap, let alone proclaim it. I said I didn't consider either the Archbishop of Canterbury or the Pope to have half-brains and I was certain mine was fully functional and I could see that one could study a subject out of intrinsic interest in any case. I wasn't accepted, so I went to Cranwell instead where, at least, one could read what one liked." I could see the look on Charles's face. Tris stepped in. "Was your interview with Mr Finch-Hampton?" Boswell nodded. "Yep, I think that was his name. Ferret-faced and sandy." We looked at each other. Very quietly, as Charles signalled for the wine waiter, I went through the Pinch-Bum saga. Boswell shook his head sadly. "Poor bugger," he said as I finished. "That book is closed," said Charles. "A sad chapter in the history of the College." To be continued: