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You are here: Home > Story Shelf > All Authors > N Fourbois > N Fourbois | Special Friendships, Part One

Special Friendships

(English Version)

by N Fourbois

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Marc had spent three successful years at Buckton College when a new arrival was to lead him to embark on a voyage of self-discovery. How successful and contented would his existence be from now on?

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All writing is memory. (Aidan Chambers)

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Dedicated to the real Marc and Seb to help them in their understanding of how human beings work and in gratitude for the company I shared with them, to Lewis from whom I could have learnt so much more and who I trust is still alive, in good health and happy, and to that mythical ideal school which is depicted here in a conflation of three I have known.

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PART ONE

September had arrived and with it the new school year at Buckton College. Fortunately the long warm summer was continuing without any hint of autumn yet. Buckton College, an independent boarding school deep in the Herefordshire countryside, had not yet yielded to the fashionable temptation, nor had it found any need, to introduce girls to its traditional way of life. Indeed, that it was one of the last few male bastions remaining in the English school system appeared to work in its favour for there was no shortage of names on its waiting-list. The School conducted a happy régime which successfully sought to extend with mutual respect the academic, cultural, sporting and general abilities of its pupils with an enlightened Christian background. It possessed its own chapel and Chaplain. Despite its conservative ethos it was by no means the backwater one might assume from its geographical location, but was embracing the best of the twenty-first century. If you were discontented here, you were probably discontented with any form of school life, unless you were seeking co-education, which was the occasional cause of losing boys between the fifth and sixth form. So confident was the School in itself that no one was retained against their will and their place was soon filled with a boy of a more suitable disposition. The foregoing might sound like the pre-amble to a lesser school's prospectus. The difference here is that there was no necessity to put it into the prospectus, and what is more it was true.

The College was well-endowed - everything at Buckton was well-endowed - which meant that its clientele stemmed not only from the unquestionably rich, but also from the not so well-off who could benefit from the education provided. Because of the high regard in which the School was held by both present and former pupils it was supported by a large, active and generous Society of Old Boys whose only wish was the continuation of the success and happiness they had experienced in their own days between the age of thirteen and nineteen. In their wisdom the Old Boys had rarely provided the School with direct contributions of money, but had over the years built up such a portfolio of investments in shares, land and property that these provided the material contributions that boosted the standards of the School. Certainly the Old Boys had won the right of two places on the Governing Body, but so effective was the management of the establishment that they never needed to dabble in politics, although the extent of their financial backing was such that if the case should ever arise their power would easily force the necessary touch on the tiller. The Old Boys also took a very keen interest in the rare occasions a Headmaster was appointed, and perhaps it was no coincidence that the present one was himself an old Bucktonian, albeit one who had first made a name for himself in the world before closing the circle on his career.

Under his leadership a five-year building plan had reached the third year stage and during the summer holidays six new boarding houses spread throughout the extensive grounds had been completed. The old ones nearer the main school buildings had already been demolished and the ground cleared. The next stage was to build the new sports hall and school hall with a theatre and so in the meantime the school's population would soldier on with the old facilities. Consequently the three hundred and seven pupils would be returning each to his own study bedroom, previously the privilege of the sixth form. The new sixth form privilege was to have en suite rooms. The downside of the School was temporary, namely that it resembled a building-site, but the inhabitants of the College were prepared, as they had been for three years, to tolerate that for the improvements to come. Still, enough of the physical description. A school is made up of people, not buildings, and it is the people who will interest us.

It was the day before term started officially. Our tale begins in Paxford House. The school coach had just drawn up with a contingent that had arrived at the local station by train. Others had been brought by their adoring parents, anxious to spend those last precious minutes before being exiled from their loved ones and having to return home. They could meet Mr Dalton, the Housemaster, his wife and the other House staff over tea, and impress upon them the personal needs of their own offspring. Marc had returned the previous day at the request of Mr Dalton. Three weeks earlier he had received the results of his GCSEs, an in no way modest achievement, but particularly pleasing were the A* grades in his chosen A-level subjects which would bring him into even closer contact with Mr Bell, the Deputy Housemaster in Paxford. Under Mr Bell's benign influence over the past three years Marc 's interests, both academic and extra-curricular, had developed. In fact Mr Bell was the first member of staff Marc would turn to whenever he was in need of help and something had gelled between them from the very first term which worked to the benefit of all they had contact with and enriched and brought out the best in both of them. Marc's exam results had become his ticket into the Sixth Form. There was no automatic promotion. At Buckton you qualified, repeated or left.

Mr Dalton had asked Marc and his previous room-mate Tom Green to be House mentors. A mentor was not a prefect. That was a School appointment which came in the Upper Sixth and had to be earnt. All the twenty-odd sixth formers took responsibilities in running the House, but a mentor was appointed to help the younger boys settle in and in return gave freedom from some of the more tedious house-duties. Appointed in the Lower Sixth they could keep a distant eye on their responsibilities for two years before leaving and the system had been so successful that it often led to lifetime friendships.

It was all hands on deck. Mr and Mrs Dalton were hosting parents and sons to tea and Marc was helping the House staff to entertain and talk to the families. He was enjoying talking to one set of parents in particular. Their son had escaped momentarily. Father was himself an Old Bucktonian and was regaling Marc with stories of his schooldays. As he had been a member of Paxford House it was natural that Sebastian, his son, should find a place there, too. Marc was impressed with how normal they sounded, no airs and graces, and how supportive of the School they were. He told them of his new rôle of mentor and that he would be in charge of a group of new boys.
"So they still have that system," said the father. "In my day that helped you to feel part of the place from the first week."
"If Sebastian is half as happy as his father was, we shall have nothing to worry about." Marc passed on with his tray of petits fours.

Tea over and the parents gone Tom, the other mentor, took the guided tour of the house and the school. The two mentors would not find out who their particular charges were until the following evening. Marc's time was now his own until House Prayers when Mr Dalton would formally welcome everyone back. He bumped into Mr Bell in the corridor who congratulated him heartily on his exam results. Marc had missed Mr Bell over the nine weeks of summer holiday and Mr Bell's mutual feelings were not even thinly disguised.
"Come up for a cup of cocoa before bedtime, Marc" he said. "Tell me about your summer. Now you're a sixth former, it might even be something stronger," and he patted him on the shoulder in a semi-hug. Marc returned to his brand new single en suite study to agonise over the arrangements on his poster boards.

The rest of the day passed as any day prior to the beginning of term. Marc was not on duty, so he could please himself. He put his head round the door of the sixth form common room and joined the gathering where they were chatting about their holidays and exam results. Supper was a noisy affair. The whole School ate collectively cafeteria style in the dining hall. It gave Marc a chance to meet his friends from the other houses. There was no atmosphere of isolationism and the boys were free to associate with whomever they wanted during their own time. In fact, in the warmer months there would be much toing and froing between the boarding houses, though that might not be so frequent with the new buildings, which meant farther to walk. It was dark by eight o'clock, the time for House Prayers.

The first time that the House was assembled in its entirety was at Prayers and this was held sacrosanct as an occasion not to be missed without an exceptional reason. Prayers were at eight in all of the houses for that very reason. They were held in the Junior Common Room, known as the Day Room, which meant they were rather cramped even in the new accommodation. Mr and Mrs Dalton were there, of course, as well as Mr Bell and the assistant housemasters. Marc sat with Tom squeezed onto a sofa in the corner. After prayers had been said, Mr Dalton gave his talk, welcoming the new members of the House, welcoming back the old hands and enquiring whether there were any problems still to be sorted, and of course the need to respect the fabric of the new building. Marc was in a dream. He jumped when he heard his name mentioned. Mr Dalton was congratulating those with particularly creditable examination certificates. Brought back to planet Earth and after he had acknowledged the applause he realised he had been staring, not into space, but at one of the new boys sat in the centre of the room. He was blond, slim without being skinny, with a lot of character in his face. Marc had especially been taken by the boy's blue eyes. He blushed when he realised what he had been doing, but that blush was taken as modesty for the praise he had received for his results. He thought no more about it at the time. Prayers drew to their conclusion and Marc went across to Mr Bell to enquire what time he should come for his cocoa.
"Give me until nine. Mr Dalton just wants a word with us and I should be free by then."

The new house had been built in two wings. The staff accommodation and ancillary areas took up two floors in the smaller east wing, while the larger west wing housed the boys' facilities, the junior common room and library on the ground floor, the games room in the basement, while the sixth formers had their own common room on the top floor. The en suite rooms had been dotted around the building at the end of corridors which resulted in closer supervision by the senior boys, while the Head of House's room reigned supreme on the top floor, slightly bigger than the others. Marc's room was at the end of the third form corridor with Tom's opposite, so he was not isolated.

Just after nine Marc made his way down to Mr Bell's study. As Deputy Housemaster he had a large study which acted as his sitting room, and a bedroom again with en suite facilities. A fire door led from his corridor to the Daltons' apartment, but it had been agreed that this was an emergency door as the Daltons had their private staircase. The other rooms on that corridor were used as guest rooms or for the case when an assistant housemaster needed to sleep in instead of in his outhouse accommodation. The accommodation for staff at Buckton College was generous by normal standards, but it was policy once you had passed a strict probationary year to look after the staff.

Marc knocked his special knock and on the command
"Come in!" entered. "Come in, Marc," Mr Bell repeated. "I have missed you this last couple of months and whisky was a poor substitute. A glass of sherry to celebrate your exam results?" 'So this is what the sixth form is about,' thought Marc. "Tell me about your summer, where you've been and what you have been doing and reading." Marc talked about Switzerland with the family and CCF camp. The CCF was strong at Buckton despite being voluntary. And after three years of German he had attempted to read his first German novel. It had been hard going, but he had succeeded. Mr Bell told him about his own holiday and the time passed quickly as they chatted and joked together.
"Come on, Marc, time you were making for bed, sixth former or not." Marc said good night, thanked Mr Bell for the sherry and with a cosy glow coursing through his body disappeared back to his own room.

It was surprisingly quiet in the house. Marc met no one on the way. He simply went into his room, got ready for bed and slipped underneath the duvet. Instead of falling asleep immediately he went over the day in his mind. The morning had been uneventful for there had been hardly anyone about. The afternoon became busy with the return of the other boys and then his mind dwelt on Prayers, on the little blond new boy. What was it about him? Had he noticed? What was his name? He certainly knew about the adolescent crushes boys had, either on other boys or occasionally on young masters - rôle models as the jargon would have it. Was this why he got on so well with Mr Bell? But he just liked his company. He had never stared at him or felt attracted to him. Eventually the heaviness behind his eyes overcame him and suddenly the alarm was going for seven o'clock.

II

It was light and there was already activity about the house. Marc's first proper day as a sixth former. They probably would not have any lessons as such, though - Beginning of Term Service, Headmaster's Assembly, admin, timetable, induction, meetings, then after lunch games. It was an easy start for the new sixth formers. The old hands in the Upper Sixth covered all the duties to make sure that the term got off to a smooth start. It would be a week at least before he had any claims on his free time, with one exception. That evening after Prayers he would find out and meet the new boys he was due to mentor. At first sight last night they had seemed a pretty average bunch, normal thirteen year old boys, perhaps a little nervous in their new surroundings though none would probably admit it.

Breakfast at eight, back to the House, then Chapel at nine. No difficulty there. The House was sent across to Chapel at a quarter to nine. Marc walked over with his chum Tom. In front of them was Jackman. Jackman could in no way be described as a typical Bucktonian. He was now in the fourth form and after a year he still had no real friends, liaisons yes, friends no. It was a sign of the general esteem in which he was universally held that he was called by his surname - Jackman.

In the close community of Buckton College boys were usually known by their Christian names or nicknames, but although several denigrating names might apply and were indeed used as terms of abuse, none had stuck. Indeed, if asked, I doubt if half of the boys in the House knew his Christian name (it was Michael), but they did know he was to be avoided. He could not help adolescence, but neither could the others of that age. His adolescence just served to contribute to his general unsavouriness. Although new, his school clothes were already ill-fitting and bedraggled. Other boys went to the doctor for their acne, he co-existed with his, intensified by the bumfluff on his almost fifteen year old face which just added to the local infection, for he either couldn't or wouldn't shave it off. Most of the school had never heard of, let alone seen boils until they met Jackman. His hair was long, black, straight and perpetually greasy. To him head and shoulders were literally what they were, a place to sport one's dandruff, but never fore-ordained to be combined into the brand name of a shampoo. The boys were issued with a clean handkerchief each day, but his were never seen in public. He walked with a stoop and his eyes stared from slits, but they were lecherous eyes matched only by his lecherous hands if you were unlucky enough to be too close to him. Consequently his liaisons were mainly with boys from other houses. If anyone could wimp out of games, it was Jackman, which alone heaped the disdain of the others on him. The most positive aspect about him was that he symbolised the general tolerance of the College for he was largely left alone even though he did not reciprocate that courtesy.

Marc shuddered involuntarily. His whole being went into defensive mode whenever he saw Jackman. The hair stood up on the back of his neck and he experienced an inner feeling of revulsion. Marc was one of nature's marvels. Just under six feet tall he had been blessed with a perfect physique and he knew it. His good-looking open face was crowned with shining brunette, almost black hair, parted in the middle, neither excessively short nor by any stretch of the imagination long. He had had to shave since the fourth form, but consequently the skin on his healthy and ruddy face was smooth and supple. Slim to begin with he had developed a natural sixpack which from his early adolescence onwards he had sought to cultivate. He was a graceful sportsman and while not outstanding in the sense of national potential could easily hold his own in the School rugby and cricket teams and most certainly on the tennis court and at the swimming gala. His friend Tom reacted similarly to the dreadful Jackman.

"Morning, Jackman. Remind me tonight to show you where the showers are." Marc was not usually that forthright, but Jackman was the exception that proved the rule. Jackman grunted in return and stared at Marc's trousers. Marc buttoned up his jacket and with Tom overtook him.

Uniform was liberal at Buckton. For school you had to wear a school tie of one variety or another with conventional shirt, jacket and trousers. You needed a dark lounge suit for formal occasions. Most boys wore a sports jacket and grey trousers. Marc and Tom as sixth formers were wearing blazers, but this was more a convention than a rule. The tradition of tolerance and freedom at Buckton could only exist alongside the positive spirit of its pupils towards their School. This attitude was handed down from generation to generation on trust and should any boy exceed the bounds he was quickly admonished, usually by his peers or older boys, but on the rare occasions the School was abused, retribution from the top was swift and it was clearly shown that there was indeed a power in the land. Every pupil knew there was too much at stake for the individual and the community and so the community had become largely self-regulating. This did not make the boys angels. They were as fun-loving as any of their age and there were plenty of high jinks, but everyone knew the bounds of acceptability.

The two pals went into chapel. Inside it was set out like a cathedral choir with raised wooden pews along the sides facing inwards. Sixth formers sat in the back row while the years graduated down to the youngest at the front. Marc sat there admiring the pillars and the vaulting. The Headmaster entered, everyone stood and after the opening prayer the Chaplain announced the hymn, 'Lord, behold us with thy blessing, once again assembled here.' Such hymns were anchor points in the school year and Marc had come to love them. They provided a form of security. The School sang heartily and then sat down to listen to the Chaplain's address. Marc, however, was not listening. He had been distracted, for opposite him in the front row was sitting the little blond boy, the one that had taken his attention the previous evening at Prayers. He was sitting modestly in his pew, eyes lowered, intent as only new boys can be on what was being said. Marc blushed. 'Thank goodness he hasn't noticed,' thought Marc. He pulled himself together and tried to listen. However, the harder he tried the more he found his eyes wandering across towards the boy, not to stare at him, but to see whether the boy had noticed his staring, which would have been self-defeating apart from the fact that every time he looked the boy was sitting there modestly with his eyes lowered. So why had he blushed?

To Marc it had been one of the shortest sermons ever. Prayers for the new term were said, another hymn sung and the boys filed out to go to the School Hall for the Headmaster's assembly. Marc was back in the normal world and in full control of himself. In fact he had forgotten what had happened in Chapel and suddenly found himself fully in the limelight as it was his turn to be called out onto the stage for congratulation by Mr Stainbridge, the Headmaster himself, for his public examination results. What he did not notice, however, was that every one of his steps was being followed by a little blond boy, a new boy in the third form seated near the front, and it was right that he shouldn't notice, for he might also have noticed farther back another pair of eyes, slit-shaped and surrounded by pustules, for the second time that day directed towards the curve of his trousers.

The rest of the day at school passed largely according to expectations. The games lesson in the afternoon was hard, the first one of the season always was. What was worse, the rugby balls were laid out, but not one was touched all afternoon - a psychological con, the carrot dangled as opposed to the stick for fitness training. Marc tried his hardest. It was a fortnight until the first matches. Marc was assured of a place, but in which team? He would have been disappointed if it had been in the 3rds, or even the 2nds, but being in the lower sixth there was hard competition for a place in the 1sts from the year above. Marc was lucky. He tackled well and had played both wing forward and centre in junior teams. When push came to shove he had filled in on the wing and at full back.

Marc trained hard that afternoon, single-mindedly. At one stage he had to retire to deposit his light lunch on the edge of the field. It was no consolation that he was not the only one, but he went off for a drink of water to rinse his mouth and prevent dehydration on this hot afternoon and joined back in as heartily as he had done before. To finish the session off they were taken to the swimming pool. They showered off the dirt, plunged into the bath for six lengths and were then in their own time. Marc and his mates chased and bombed one another for ten minutes and got out. They showered off the chlorinated water, changed into tracksuits and took their kit back to the House. Although he now had his own en suite facilities, they only included a shower and he would have to use the general amenities in order to soak away the stiffness that was setting in in a bathtub. He lay back in the hot Radox water and promptly fell asleep to be woken up by a banging on the door and a frustrated enquiry as to how much longer he would be. Feeling much better he pulled the plug, dried himself, let in the waiting fifth former and returned to his room to get dressed into casual clothes for the rest of the day.

Chatting with the lads in the sixth form common room (they were as knackered from rugby training as he was), supper, Prayers. Conscious of the previous evening and this morning Marc made sure he sat where he could not see the little blond third former. He still did not even know his name. He would soon get to know them all. After Prayers Mr Dalton asked Marc and Tom to stay behind while he talked to the new members of the House. They would be introduced as the mentors and told the names of the five they would each be looking after. With the blessing of the Housemaster they would then take them off for cocoa and biscuits to get to know them. As the House was dismissed Marc felt his hair being slightly ruffled. He took no notice or rather he refused to take any notice for he feared it could be Jackman up to one of his tricks, although, just a minute, he could see him over the other side of the room. He felt relieved and still, in that throng, it could be anybody, either by design or accident, and so he thought no more about it.

Mr Dalton read out the names.
"The first five will be under the care of Tom Green," and he listed the five. "The remaining five will be with Marc," and to make sure, he read their names out too. The third formers murmured amongst themselves, Tom looked at Marc, Marc looked at Tom. They were ready to go. Mr Dalton said
"Over to you Tom and Marc, now," and wished them good night.

"Right," said Tom, "you'll be coming to our rooms, but we need some help carrying the stuff upstairs." They took the group to the kitchen and loaded them up with what Mrs Dalton had ready for them and off they marched like the Pied Piper of Hamelin, ignoring Jackman as he leered at the ten.

As each group followed their leader into their respective sixth form study-bedrooms, Marc immediately noticed that the little blond third former with the smile and the sparkling blue eyes was not part of the crocodile behind him. He honestly did not know whether he was relieved or disappointed, such was the feeling of confusion in his mind. They reached his room, entered and they all settled down. Marc set about pouring the cocoa and got one of the others to deal with the biscuits. He handed round the mugs and only then did he notice he had one spare.
"Who's missing?"
"Seb," came the reply. Marc looked at his list.
"That must be Sebastian. Am I right? Could one of you go and look for him?" But it was not necessary for there came a knock at the door and a face peered round. It was as if time stood still. To Marc the hubble bubble in the room became inaudible and in a few seconds which to him seemed an eternity his jaw dropped, he felt his face go hot, his heart palpitate and he nearly dropped his mug of cocoa. The face at the door looked worried, but the moment he saw who his host was it blushed, gave a most engaging smile and its eyes twinkling enquired
"Are you Marc?" The voice hauled Marc out of his suspended animation. It was a broken voice, well spoken, one with that coarseness of adolescence before it finds its eventual pitch. The spell broken Marc said
"Come on in," and looking at his piece of paper said "You must be Sebastian."
"Yes, I'm called Seb by my friends. Only my parents call me Sebastian."
"Then Seb you shall be."
"Sorry I'm late. Mrs Dalton wanted a word and then I went to the wrong room and I'm to give you these," he said handing over another packet of biscuits.

The speed of his little speech displayed a certain nervousness, his body language by way of contrast a certain confidence. Marc's mind was in whirl. It had not occurred to him that he would be looking after this blond boy who had so taken his attention. On the other hand he knew absolutely nothing of the effect that he had had on Seb over the past day and a bit. He did know how Jackman's presence affected him, how he could feel his presence even when he had not even seen or heard him. Seb seemed to have a similar effect, but with this difference, that he enjoyed his presence and he felt his heart and his mood lightened by it. It was all a new experience for him.

The tape sped up, the sound switched in again and Marc was back in the real world. But had he ever left it, even momentarily?
"Well, we'd better get to know one another," said Marc once everyone had been provided for. "I know Seb. Who are the rest of you?" Daniel, Ian, Robin and Josh. Marc got them to introduce themselves, to talk about their interests, their first impressions of Buckton, why they had come there, about the schools they had come from and finally Marc talked a little more about the School and the House and ended up with what he viewed his job as mentor to be and how useful his own mentor had been when he first arrived at Buckton. He looked at his alarm clock and saw that it was already past the juniors' bedtime and although they wanted to keep chatting in the end he was firm and sent them off along with all the things that had to go down to the kitchen.

He lay back on his bed and thought what a nice bunch he had. 'I pity Dave Lane with that creature Jackman.' Dave was in the upper sixth now and mentoring the fourth form. 'I'm getting obsessed with Jackman,' and he shuddered saying "Ough". He didn't yet know it. He was indeed becoming obsessed, but it wasn't with Jackman. There was a knock at the door and expecting it to be Tom coming to compare notes he shouted
"Come". It wasn't Tom. It was Seb in dressing gown. His heart thumped and a feeling of well-being coursed through Marc's veins.
"I think I left my rough book here. It's got my timetable in." It had slipped under the chair Seb had been sitting in. He picked it up.
"You'd better be off to bed or you'll be in trouble." It was Marc who felt delightfully in trouble. "Have a good day tomorrow and if you want to know anything I'm here to help. Remember that," said Marc wishing Seb would want to know a lot of things.

Seb said good night and smiled that smile that made his own eyes twinkle and Marc's heart soar. Marc did not know what was happening to him. He was interested in a distant way, but not worried in the least. He got up off his back, went across to Tom's room and after another mug of cocoa and an exchange of their mentoring experiences went off to relax in front of some television.

Marc went to bed and as he lay there mulled over the events of the day in his mind. He felt good, at peace with himself despite his strange behaviour and thought he was in for a good term. Work tomorrow. Then he remembered the parents, the Old Boy and his wife he had been talking to at tea the previous day, and at that he dozed off.

III

Seven o'clock the alarm rang. Marc rose, showered and dressed. He liked routine. Buckton College encouraged routine seemingly without imposing it. Breakfast with his fellow sixth formers, get ready for school, Chapel, lessons. He was looking forward to starting his A-levels after a taster session in the Summer Term when his GCSEs were finished. He was sure he wanted to take languages, Latin, French and German, particularly German with Mr Bell. He had asked Mr Bell to present him at his confirmation. His parents had unfortunately been abroad at the time of the School confirmation in the fourth form and with their blessing Mr Bell filled the gap and Marc now looked upon him as an ersatz godfather. Although he respected the formality of the School system and avoided familiarity, it was his wish that once he had left Buckton Mr Bell might become a family friend and that they would remain in contact. Mr Bell had this gift of lifting him on those rare occasions he felt low. Equally he could rein him in when the opposite occurred. Hide it as he might try, Mr Bell could not disguise his admiration for Marc who, he felt, had everything going for him, intellectually, physically and socially. He felt Marc could have been the son he had never had. In its values Buckton was still one of those old-fashioned public schools that provided the home and family life for its bachelor masters and in gratitude for lifelong service it would provide practical support and assistance in retirement if so required.

Marc had finally reached Chapel after waiting for Tom and Doug to get themselves ready. He was sitting in what would be his normal seat for the rest of term, if not for the rest of the school year, and so he was not surprised to see sat in the opposite pews Seb. Not only did he seem to stand out from those around, as if a spotlight were falling on him, but he was staring at Marc, just as if he had been waiting for him. Marc didn't know what to do. He certainly did not want to ignore him. After all it was only a reversal of rôles from the previous two days and Marc had liked him from their first formal introduction last night, but on the other hand a sixth former had a certain personal dignity even in these enlightened days and the thought of Jackman's distasteful habits shot through his mind. 'End up like him? Oh no!' Again the time warp had come in. What seemed like five minutes to Marc was but seconds in the real world and when his eyes unglazed he found that he had been staring back, an acknowledgement in itself. His eyes, however, re-focussed in time to see Seb smile and with the smile his blue eyes twinkled. Marc smiled back and nodded. Honour was satisfied. The Headmaster entered, the School stood and Chapel proceeded.

The first German lesson with Mr Bell was an outline of the course. Marc was one of eight in the class, smaller than the average A-level class at Buckton, but average for a subject which from the third form upwards was an option. They would take the literature component and the first book they were to read was Thomas Mann's Tonio Kröger. Marc had yet to discover the irony of this choice which would lay his heart bare in the pursuit of intellectual excellence as he probed other works by Mann and came to terms with his biography. Fortunately he shared his two modern language classes with his old friend Tom who had opted for history as his third A-level, and so he would have a sounding board for the ideas his reading provoked within him. To begin with he found Tonio Kröger hard going, but a translation was permitted under the proviso that they did not read ahead and spoil the story. In any case he would be spurred on once he discovered that the eponymous hero bore certain characteristics of his own developing situation. The bell ended the double period and the class left for morning break.

Except during inclement weather the boys of Buckton College were encouraged to spend their breaks in the fresh air. Providing they kept off the 1st team's rugby and cricket pitches they had the freedom of the playing fields. The library was open and most popular during the colder days of winter or there was the tuck shop run by Mrs Miggins, the Head Caretaker's wife, and her helpers. The sixth formers naturally had the privilege of remaining in the Sixth Form Centre which had a comfortable common room away from the study areas, but three years of the healthy outdoors had persuaded even them of the benefits of being outside.

Meanwhile in and outside the tuck shop the younger boys were jostling with one another as they moved up the queue. Seb and Daniel had just had their first three lessons at Buckton. Maths, R S and English.

They had met first in the house corridor and got chatting. At their previous schools they had both played rugby and cricket, done some acting, Daniel had even sung in the school choir until his voice had broken. They were both outgoing and fun-loving and when they found out that they shared adjacent rooms and would be in the same form, that cemented their friendship. They were joshing one another as small boys do when Seb felt a hand stroking his bottom. He turned his head and found that behind was the revolting Jackman who leered as he turned round. Seb just carried on talking to Daniel and without warning lifted his leg and stamped his shoe down hard on Jackman's foot.
"You'll pay for that," exclaimed Jackman while trying to suppress the pain. Seb apologised with a smile, but the twinkle in his eyes was noticeably absent while the others in the queue pushed Jackman out with shouts of "Perve" and "Serves you right" and the duty prefect sent him to the back.
"He gives me the creeps," said Daniel.
"The others warned me about him. That's why I had no hesitation."

The second day of term could have been any day for by now the routine was established. After a full day at school Marc and Tom felt in need of some exercise. They returned to Paxford, dumped their books and got changed into their running kit. They jogged slowly through the school grounds until they reach the playing fields where they opened up and challenged each other to sprint races. They were already feeling the benefit of the oxygen coursing through their arteries and it would help to prepare them for their first rugby match. They ran back to the house, fetched their swimming kit and finished off by doing ten lengths of the pool. Then down to work for the evening, a break for supper and Prayers and the rest of the day was their own. Marc looked first of all at his copy of Tonio Kröger. The German was difficult, more difficult than anything he had tackled so far, but he persevered, then went over to the translation. He only read the first chapter, Tonio Kröger and Hans Hansen at school. He read about the friendship between them although they were poles apart in their interests, but felt that he had missed the point. He would talk to Mr Bell after Prayers.

The boys went off to supper. Afterwards the School moved back to their various houses and Marc and Tom crowded into the day room with the others. Again Marc chose his seat carefully to avoid looking at Seb. Jackman had just lurched in and the juniors were all busy crowding him out so he couldn't sit near them until he ended up for five seconds almost sitting on the lap of another fourth former. Marc felt an inner disgust which by the expression on his face he communicated involuntarily.
"Dave, how do you cope?" he asked Dave Lane, the prefect sitting on his other side.
"I don't. I just try to look after the others."

Prayers started and finished. Mr Dalton released them and just as Marc was about to rise from the settee he felt his hair being ruffled.
"Get off, Tom!" Tom, however, was on the other side of the room and as he turned he noticed a blond haired third former smiling at him, his eyes twinkling. Marc simply couldn't be angry with him. His irritation melted immediately and he automatically said
"Hello, Seb. So it's you," in mock despair. "What sort of day have you had?"
"Not bad. Rugby made up for it" and they moved out of the room together.

Marc watched some television and had a game of snooker once the juniors had gone to bed, then returned upstairs to his Tonio Kröger. He wouldn't disturb Mr Bell tonight. When he went to bed that night, he had quite forgotten Jackman and Tonio Kröger. 'Funny boy, that Seb. Cheeky for a third former, but you can't help liking him.' Then he fell asleep.

IV

The term was now in full swing and Marc felt stimulated by his new courses. The days grew shorter and cooler and the leaves turned as autumn advanced. Another routine had become established as well: the smile in Chapel and the tousling of his hair upon dismissal from Prayers, to the extent that their omission would have caused more comment than their commission. Monday and Wednesday afternoons were games days for the seniors. Friday afternoon was set aside for the CCF which meant that occasionally an exercise could continue into the weekend. The pay-back for this was two extra lessons after the Monday games session. The sixth form had General Studies so no one escaped with free periods. Saturday meant no lessons, but was set aside for School matches and when these were in the morning the populace could enjoy an even longer weekend. Marc was disappointed not to have been selected for the 1st XV, but this disappointment was assuaged to a certain degree by being invited to captain the 2nd XV. An occasional exeat weekend would be fitted in, especially at times of tiredness and stress such as towards the end of a long term or after exams.

Since moving into the new building Mr Dalton had consciously set a policy of converting Paxford House into Paxford Hotel for two days a week and the régime was relaxed. Rising times and breakfast were voluntary. If you missed school breakfast, you could provide your own as each floor had its own kitchen with refrigerator, microwave oven and utensils. For weekend lunch or supper you had to make a firm commitment to attend or withdraw according to the activities on offer. On Saturday evening the school buses made timetabled journeys into the local market town for cinema or 'socialising'. The return journey was timed according to your seniority. Sunday saw Chapel at ten, made compulsory by the School for all in residence, after which you could join in or ignore any activities available. The only rule was to make a firm commitment and stick to it. What happened in other houses was probably similar, but fine-tuned by the particular Housemaster.

Marc and Tom established their own routine on Friday evenings when they would invite the members of their mentor groups to cocoa and biscuits in their rooms after Prayers. They knew they would at least have this formal contact, but of course they made themselves readily available when needed and if time permitted would join in games of snooker or ping-pong, or cards or Scrabble, as their own mentors had done with them years before. Another little piece of routine had, however, crept into these mentor meetings. During them Seb would just be part of the group, but he made sure he always left something behind so that after he had changed for bed he could return in his dressing gown to retrieve it. Marc had cottoned on to this, even tried to forecast what the object would be, but on the other hand never reminded Seb of the abandoned artifact before his first exit. He would almost anxiously await the knock twenty to thirty minutes later and pretend he was in the middle of some work for this essay or that dissertation, but would have been sorely disappointed had Seb withdrawn and promised to come back in the morning. And he enjoyed their chats, they both did. Bedtimes were half an hour later on Fridays and Saturdays, but even so he would conduct Seb back to his room to prevent his getting into trouble for being late. Usually Mr Bell was on duty on Fridays which oiled the works. Mentoring had its advantages. Both Mr Dalton and Mr Bell would informally enquire of Marc and Tom how their young charges were progressing and whether there was anything they should know, which gave them a chance to pass on the feelings of the lower echelons in the House so that the staff might keep a finger on the pulse. Not that you can have any secrets in such a close community anyway.

The Saturday before half term the 1st XV was playing away and there was no match for the 2nds. Marc was not required to sub, so he decided he would watch the U14s. He was particularly pleased that three members from his mentor group, Robin, Daniel and Seb, had become regular players in the School team. This boded well for the junior House XV to have the School scrum half, outside half and centre. It was a hard and fast match against St Bridge's, indeed the School was ten points down at half time, but with the wind behind them and an inspiring captain the pack delivered the backs with more ball which they arduously converted into points. With less than five minutes to go the score was 20 - 25, that is in favour of the visitors, when a surge from the scrum gave Daniel clean ball which he spun out to Seb who zipped it down the line to the right wing. The fullback came up outside giving them the extra man and as the opposition crunch tackled the winger he passed the ball to the fullback to level the score in the corner. It was now up to Seb to convert, difficult for any youngster from just inside the touch-line. He carefully placed the ball, measured his run-up and kicked. The ball rose. He had not kicked it far enough to the left. Seb was already running back for the re-start, but then a gust of wind made the ball curve slightly in its flight. Seb didn't see this. It hit the right hand upright and dropped. Marc held his breath. Then the touch judges' flags rose in unison to indicate that the ball had passed through the sticks. A cheer went up and the referee blew his whistle for no side.

Seb was the hero of the match. The teams exchanged their three cheers and Buckton ran to the side of the pitch to clap off their opponents. As Buckton passed through St Bridge's tunnel Marc managed to slap Seb on the shoulder and in return gained the smile and the twinkling eyes.

Marc helped to clear the flags away and directed the few parents spectating to the pavilion for tea. He thought he would go and congratulate the team, especially his three Paxfordians, and he could hear the healthy jubilation as he approached the changing room. There were high spirits and high jinks. He opened the door and disappeared inside. He blinked through the steam and there was a merry game of pass the jockstrap in progress, each player trying to get rid of it as soon as he was given it. When the intruder was spotted it was thrown to the third former nearest the door who in an act of hubris securely placed the sweaty article over Marc's head with the pouch covering his face. His natural reaction would have been to rip it off, but he could not help but smell it, a combination of detergent, sweat, mud and small boy and instead of finding it revolting the smell had a strange attraction for him which he savoured. The lads thought he was just putting on a brave face to call their bluff, but he wanted to get his fill of the odour. Realising what was going on around him he pulled the jockstrap off his head and looked at the nametape. Fortunately it was comparatively dim in the changing room as he felt the blood rushing to his face in one almighty blush, for what he read there was Seb's name. Playing Mr Cool he scrunched it up and threw it back to Seb, congratulated the team and disappeared back to Paxford.

Marc and Tom went into town that night. Death in Venice was playing at one of the screens in the multiplex and they had been recommended this film as background to their reading of Tonio Kröger. Afterwards they retired to a hostelry, took in a lemonade and a coke (loosely speaking) and caught the last bus back to school.

As Marc lay in bed he could not get the smell of the jockstrap out of his nostrils, nor did he want to. Amazed, he revelled in it and wondered what his reaction would have been, had it been unnamed or someone else's. He thought of Tadzio from the film, he thought of Tonio Kröger and Hans Hansen, and he thought of Seb and himself. Was there a connection? He was prevented from answering his own question by the Sandman.

V

The following Friday afternoon there was no CCF parade. Marc was pleased all his charges had joined, but while they were doing their basic training he would not see them. Marc was in the Royal Naval section, the nearest he could get to the Royal Marines whose cadets he would have joined if there had been a section. However, today half term began at midday. The luckier pupils were collected, but Marc had to make the journey by train. The saving grace was that Tom's parents gave him a lift into Hereford giving him better connections than the local station. The Indian summer had continued and Marc took his housemaster's advice. He had left his books at school and would get out into the fresh air during this last week of October before the clocks went back and winter really set in. He was looking forward to being re-united with his family. He had a younger sister, Jessica, who attended a local day school and a brother, Ben, who was destined for Buckton in two years' time. He was fond of them both, but particularly missed his little brother who was only eight when Marc went off to boarding school and now aged eleven he was just about to become a human being. He always made a point of sending them each a postcard every week. He would build up a stock in the holidays. The main thing he wanted to do was to get school out of his head. He loved Buckton College, but even he suffered the strains of the hot house society, the closed community, and holidays were a necessary safety valve. This half term had provided more reason than usual to stand back and take stock. The work was demanding and stimulating. He had that ability to shut himself off from those around him and get on with it. Work was not a problem. Sport was the antidote to work. He joined in the occasional debates and sixth form events when time allowed. One thing he regretted was that because of moving into the new boarding house he had had more luggage than usual at the beginning of term and so had left his guitar at home. That would go back after half term. Marc had a mature singing voice. He sang in the school choir whose main task was to lead the singing in Sunday Chapel and appear at the occasional concert.

The week passed too quickly. He had managed to get to London and stayed the night with his cousin, Susan, who was at university. Her flatmates found him rather dishy and Marc played up to it. They took in a play and the next day he did some shopping while Susan was at college, before taking the train home. He still thought of Seb, much as he had done at school, that is before going to sleep. His heart went out to him, he described his feelings as paternal, as brotherly love, but they were different from the fondness he felt for his little brother. He missed the smile and the twinkling eyes and the tousled hair and during the whole week Seb was his only thought of school. 'I wonder what he is doing now,' he would ask himself and for fear of appearing to himself as big-headed tried to suppress the thought of 'Is he missing me?' and then his thoughts inevitably turned towards his studies of Thomas Mann's works. He never had gone for that talk with Mr Bell.

As Sunday was the appointed day for the return to school Marc's mother and father offered to take him back by car. Since the weather was still warm they would take a picnic, make a detour into the Forest of Dean for lunch, then on to school. Jessica and Ben could see Buckton College and Marc's room, and the family could pay their respects to the Daltons and Mr Bell. The clocks had gone back that weekend and so it was almost dark when the car drew up in front of Paxford House. Marc took his parents to Mr Dalton's study and made his excuses so that he could return to Jessica and Ben. They helped him unpack the car and carry his bits and pieces to his room and then he took them on a tour of the house ending up at Mr Dalton's study. Mother and Father were ready to leave and just as they were going through the front door Mr Bell caught up with them. Marc took the young ones back to the car and after five minutes their parents turned up.
"So you've made a good start to the sixth form, I hear," said Father.
"Mr Bell is very pleased with your work," added Mother. "You're lucky to have a master like that. He's obviously got you off to a tee."
"We'll see what we can do about getting you abroad next year. Mr Bell thinks that if you continue as you've started you might try for Cambridge. Anyway, that's something for you to think about, young man," continued Father. Marc was a peculiar mixture. He was well aware of his own abilities, but he possessed such a combination of self-motivation and modesty that he still blushed when he received any praise or appreciation. After a hug and a kiss for all the family they climbed into the car and Marc waved them off as they drove towards the exit.

As he was about to go back into the house, Seb's parents without Seb were coming out of the front door. They recognised Marc from the beginning of term and said hello and were considerate enough to save embarrassment by reminding him who they were.
"Sebastian told us he's in your mentor group," said the Father.
"That's right."
"He's settled in really well and he won't stop talking about how much you've helped him," added his mother. "You've got a friend for life there," she said. Marc felt the rush of blood to his face again and hoped that in the dusk no one would notice.
"We must go. Keep up the good work." He wondered what good work exactly, but the thought soon left him. He said goodbye and made his way back to his room. In the letter rack there was a postcard for him. He picked it up and went upstairs. The picture was of Disneyland, the stamp French. Back in his room he read:
'Dear Mentor M, we've been on Eurostar to Disneyland - fantastic. Hope you've had a good holiday, too. Thanks for all your help this term. I've missed you. Yours S.'
His heart leapt. No mistaking who this was from and in an emotional moment he was reminded that he too had missed Seb. He just hoped that no one else had read it.

He now wanted to see Seb more than anything else. The card had finally broken down the defences he had built around himself since that first encounter across the aisle of the chapel. He had never pursued Seb. It was always the reverse although he had never played hard to get either, quite the opposite. Thoughts flashed through his mind. Tonio Kröger - he wasn't alone. Others had suffered the pangs of youthful love. Love - this was the first time he had used the word in relation to himself. He loved his parents, his sister and his little brother, but he had never felt possessive. In fact by being family they possessed each other anyway. Death in Venice - but it was an old man and a boy that made it so tawdry, and he had a fleeting thought of Jackman. There were just over two years between him and Seb and in Death in Venice it was clear that such a relationship led to perdition. However, Tonio grew out of it, or rather through it. 'Jackman - am I becoming like Jackman?' That was the unkindest cut of all, but logic told him that Jackman was revolting, promiscuous, out for gratuitous sexual gratification wherever he could find it. Marc knew he was physically and socially poles apart from that Neanderthal and in any case a celibate or platonic relationship had formed between him and Seb, slowly, as if by chance without imposing themselves on one another. What would his fellow sixth formers think of him? Although when he thought about it several of them flirted with older or younger boys as they went up the school and claimed to have regular girl friends at home. He had always shared the general tolerance and understanding which typified Buckton College. Perhaps that's why he had been asked to become a mentor. For the first time in his life he was filled with self-doubt. He needed to talk, but who could he trust to keep it confidential? What should he do now? The answers ranged between going to see the boy now and the proverbial cold shower. He finally lay back on his bed and exhaled a long breath. If it had been light he would have gone for a long, hard run before supper, but it was not wise in the dark. He was starting to calm down. His logical mind carried on the thought process. His attachment to Seb was emotional, paternal he had described it before. He enjoyed his company, liked his tarting. There! That word had finally been said, but his feelings were in no way sexual. On the other hand there had been the incident with the jockstrap which should have disgusted, but in fact delighted him, enhanced when he discovered whose jockstrap it was and with the realisation that he liked the smell of small boy. However, his options for action were restricted for he was suddenly brought back to reality by the bell for supper.

He walked over to supper with Tom and Doug. Although it was safe, they were encourage to move about the grounds in small groups after dark. Marc also valued their company as a return to normality. They had a week's holiday to discuss and he was pleased to join sixth formers from other houses that evening. They still had half a term's rugby to talk about.

Supper had done him some good and he felt his old balanced self again. At Prayers he sat in his usual place on the settee. How conservative schoolboys are. He kept an eye open for the evil Jackman. He knew Seb was behind him, but the ritual demanded that he should ignore him until he felt his hair being ruffled. Anyway, he could hear him talking away to his mates. Prayers came and went. The House was dismissed and there was a rush for the TV room. The day room was almost deserted by the time the ruffling of the hair came.
"How did you get on in France? I liked your card. Thanks a lot."
"I've got something for you. It's in my study." Marc followed Seb out of the room, not a care in the world now they were re-united.

Half a term had gone by and he realised he had not yet been in Seb's study. Under the arrangements in the new building there was little need apart from perhaps when he did his three-weekly house duty. Room inspection was in the hands of the Head of House and the prefects when they also made sure that soap and water were regularly applied, but even that was carried out in the floor's washroom. He looked at Seb's poster boards. Mainly pictures of sportsmen, predominantly rugby players, but also Linford Christie and some cricketers. On the board by his bed was a family portrait. Seb had a younger sister and brother like Tim, but in reverse order. His sister was a pretty little girl and she had inherited the same blond hair, smile and twinkling blue eyes. His brother took more after his father. On another board were team photographs, rugby, cricket and cross-country, from his prep school with a centre piece of Seb with another boy, both in white athletics kit, arms round each other's shoulders, the very personification of happiness.
"That's Guy, my best friend. He won a scholarship to King Edward's. It was taken last term at sports day after we'd won the house relay. Guy ran at number one with me at four. He was also head boy, but I captained the rugby XV and no way would I swap.

"Look. I brought this back from France for you." He handed Marc a flat package. "Go on. Undo it." Amazement had made Marc hesitate. He carefully unwrapped the package and discovered an Asterix book in French. "I thought it might help the A-level work." Marc was taken aback, then went into auto-pilot and gave Seb a hug as he might have done his little brother. He realised what he had done, but it didn't matter. He'd enjoyed it and furthermore Seb responded by putting his arms round him. Marc's moment of introspection was now well in the past. He was back on an even keel.
"That's wicked. Thank you. That calls for cocoa and biscuits. See you in my study in five minutes." What was he doing? But it was acceptable to take a visit from a member of your mentor group and Marc thought no more of it. When he had gone along the corridor and reached his study he opened the front cover of Asterix chez les Bretons and inscribed in the corner was: 'To M, with gratitude, S'.

That night when he went to bed Marc pondered the events of the day, how he had stepped out of one world and into the midst of another. His soul was singing. He realised how lucky he was and while he knew the reason he could not explain it to himself.

VI

There were six weeks of school routine left before the Christmas break. The rugby was going well and Marc made the most of it. Next term would be cross-country, house matches and sevens, but the game was never taken so seriously in the Spring term which was probably for the better if the weather turned out particularly wet or cold. They also had the use of the indoor nets to prepare for the cricket season. He had looked ahead. Easter was early and he approved of a short Spring term and a long Summer one.

A week after half term Marc handed in his first German literature essay. It had been an analysis and evaluation of the theme of love in Tonio Kröger. He had enjoyed writing it and had gladly undertaken some extra reading in his research. When Prayers had finished Mr Bell said he could come and fetch his essay if he liked. A quick tousle of the hair and for the first time a return of the compliment and Marc followed Mr Bell out and up to his apartment. Mr Bell sat him down and offered a glass of sherry.
"You know, Marc, I have never read such a mature essay from a lower sixth former. I would be more than happy to receive this standard at the end of the upper sixth. I won't go along with all of it. You didn't develop Ich liebe das Leben and you did not list your sources. Harpprecht was clearly one as you look at Mann's relationship with his own son."
"I started off with a book called The Four Loves which gave me my insight."
"But the tone of your essay is that you have some experience in these forms of love." Marc blushed. He had seen the book in the school library and on reading the cover become interested, not primarily for any explanation of Tonio Kröger, but for his own situation. He did not think 'problem' for to him it was not a problem. In a less tolerant society it might have been.
"Have you ever been in love?" You could rely on Mr Bell to come to the point.
"I don't know," Marc replied automatically, but immediately thought he had gone too far in opening up. Yet this is what he needed to do and Mr Bell was probably the only one who might understand. He wouldn't expect his parents to. Tom, much as he was his greatest friend, was too straight forward a guy to understand the occasional feelings of turmoil.
"You don't have to answer that question," Mr Bell went on. Marc felt the genie might be out of the bottle. He had not touched his sherry, but was pleased to now. The two talked about various things going on in the school and the house, which put Marc at ease. He was back on safe ground. Jackman came into the conversation as he had made a nuisance of himself among the third formers, but that was being watched. Marc drank his sherry, left his essay behind so that it could be returned in school, wished Mr Bell good night and decided he wanted to do some guitar practice with Tom. In bed that night he considered the day and knew what the inspiration for his essay had been. It might be hard to produce that standard when they turned to another work and with that he fell asleep.

VII

The term was flying past. Marc and Seb's relationship had developed a sort of normality. That meant they saw each other about the house. The morning and evening rituals continued, accepted by everyone as part of House and School life. The mentor group meetings were also routine with the bonus that Seb would find a reason for returning to Marc's room and they would talk. There was a minor upset when Seb had to be isolated in the Sanatorium with a bout of sickness. Those three days provided an emptiness which was filled by work. Tom sensed that there was something wrong with his friend, in fact knew what it was and jollied him along. The last weekend in November was always an exeat weekend. The boys were free from Friday lunchtime through to six on Sunday. Marc took the train in both directions. At home he was cosseted and given massive doses of TLC, but on the train he had brooded about missing his Friday mentor group meeting. However, once at home he forgot with one exception all about school and took every advantage of home comforts and home cooking. Even Jessica and Ben played up to having big brother at home. Sunday afternoon he was put on the train and collected along with several other Bucktonians from the railway station by the school coach. As he reached his study he found an envelope with a note in it shoved under the door. He opened it. 'Dear M, I have something for you. See you after Prayers. Your S'. His eyes settled on the 'Your S'. Was that a misprint for 'Yours S'? He didn't dare answer the question. Supper that night seemed interminable and, in a dream, he was not really listening to his friends until he heard Doug say
"Marc's in love." It immediately brought him back to the real world. He blushed. With a blush like that he could hardly say no and, strangely, he was not offended by the statement, especially when the others started joshing him about whom he had met over the weekend.
"What's she like?" Marc pretended to be coy and parried all the mickey-taking. It was a relief, but it did bring the truth to the forefront of his mind and from the way his friend Tom kept out of it Marc suspected he knew who it was he was in love with. Their group left the dining hall and split to return to their various houses. Marc and Tom were by themselves. They stopped in the dark and Marc turned to Tom and said
"You know, don't you?" Tom hesitated and slowly nodded. "How long have you known?"
"Since the time he was in the San." How discreet, even then Tom did not say the name.
"Is there something wrong with me?"
"In the three years I have known you, you were never happier and you've never been a nicer person to know. Most people think it's because you have blossomed in the sixth form. I suppose they're right and I've always let them think that. Your secret is safe with me. If I was going to tell anyone, I'd have done it by now." Marc put his arm round Tom's shoulder and whispered
"Thanks". They quickened their pace back towards Paxford. "You know," said Marc, "Doug's said something I never dared to say to myself. He's right and it's a hell of a relief, but where do I go from here?"

Enlightenment in both senses of the word. Marc had had something made explicit to him and a burden had been removed from his shoulders. It was not long until Prayers. Marc went down with Tom at the last minute. He was playing hard to get and this had given Seb and Daniel the chance of sitting on the settee in the day room. The two seniors turfed them out. They were trying their luck - they knew it - and they took up their normal position behind it. Mr Bell took Prayers that evening. The Daltons had decided to take full advantage of the long weekend and were out. Mr Bell welcomed everyone back, exhorted them to work for the remaining two weeks of term, especially those with trial exams in January. The House was dismissed and Marc felt the customary hand ruffling his hair. With end of term tests prevalent before the last marks order and reports the House had returned in business-like mood and the vast majority disappeared to their own studies to cram for this chemistry test or that geography test before bedtime. So the house appeared almost deserted when Marc left his study and wandered down the corridor to knock on Seb's door.
"Password" came the muffled voice from inside.
"Ruffled hair," said Marc. They had never used a password and it was the first thing they had in common that came into his head. The door opened and he was allowed inside. Marc wanted to hug the creature in front of him, but did not dare make the first move. He sat on Seb's bed. Seb meanwhile was undoing his tuckbox from which he produced two slices of cake.
"It was my birthday yesterday."
"Why on earth didn't you tell me? I could at least have given you a card."
"Not a problem. We were away anyway." If a birthday falls on a normal schoolday it was a great tradition in Paxford to acknowledge it with a cake and also with the bumps which were given in a huge blanket with the house staff and sixth formers on the corners to make sure it was held securely. Seb had missed this with his birthday on exeat Saturday, but on the other hand had been able to celebrate at home with his family. He handed a slice of cake to Marc who wished him many happy returns and asked him about his presents.
"A new watch," and he brandished his left wrist to show Marc. He couldn't see it properly so he automatically grasped Seb's hand so he could take a closer look. It was the latest combined digital and analogue model with timers and calculators, everything but the kitchen sink. Marc was genuinely interested and so it was more than a minute before he realised he was holding Seb's hand and furthermore Seb had tightened his grip on Marc's. It slowly dawned on Marc that apart from the occasional return of hair-ruffling or sporting pat on the back this was the first time he had deliberately and consciously held him even though Seb had touched him every night after Prayers. It was a lingering moment in which Seb placed his right hand on top and started to stroke the back. It was strange how the junior appeared to be the more experienced and leading the advances and Marc felt his palm being tickled by one of Seb's fingers.
"You don't realise, Seb, how fond I've grown of you."
"I think I do. I've adored you since the first day of term, but I had to make you notice me. I didn't even know your name and I was afraid to ask, but you made it easy for me in Chapel. You were looking at me and all I had to do was smile. We were hooked, but I had to make sure and so I tested you by ruffling your hair at Prayers that evening. You didn't hit me or tell me off, so that was it. When I heard that you were going to be my mentor that was the icing on the cake," and he lifted up a piece of icing from his birthday cake and popped it into his mouth.

Marc was gobsmacked. He could scarcely believe what he had just heard. It had taken him until today to understand about himself what had been obvious to this 13, no, 14 year old. It was Seb's bedtime and he couldn't encourage him to get into trouble. He expressed his gratitude and in recognition of what he had just been told wrapped his arms round him momentarily and disappeared to his study. The note he carefully placed inside the Asterix volume. Marc was ready for bed himself. He cleaned his teeth and changed, then climbed under the duvet before switching off the light. 'What a day it's been. What do I do now? I'm hooked. We're hooked. I'm enjoying it, Seb's enjoying it, it's not harming my work. Indeed it gave me that high mark for the lit essay, and then there was that incident with the jockstrap.…' Sleep interrupted his chain of thoughts there.

VIII

Marc had a free period Monday morning which gave him a chance to run down to the village stores. He bought a birthday card and the largest bar of chocolate they had in stock. He had time to return to his study, wrap up the chocolate and write the card. 'To my dearest S, I'm sorry it's late, but it won't be next time. Many happy returns. With all my fondness and love, Your M.' He had written 'fondness and love' as he would have done in a card to his family before realising what he had done and when he came to think it over he couldn't cross it out without making a mess of the card, and when he thought about it a little more he didn't even want to. He stopped himself from adding kisses, though that just served to open up another dimension in his mind. He sat stock still and pondered. He must have spent five minutes in a day dream. He walked along the corridor and asked one of the house domestics if he could put the card and present in Seb's room, then wandered back to the sixth form centre.

Monday afternoon was rugby training. Marc's fitness was at a peak after almost a term. There was not an ounce of fat on him. He was all muscle and sinew and the sixpack had been honed to perfection. Two matches left they worked at their skills for as long as the light allowed, then finished off with fitness in the gym and ten lengths in the swimming pool. It was hard work, but at this end of term he could take it in his stride and although physically tired he felt mentally refreshed when he returned to school for two lessons, then to Paxford for prep. On his desk were four squares of chocolate - nothing else. After Prayers his hair received the customary ruffling and in his ear he could hear whispered a 'thank you' and in an even softer voice
"I love you, too". The mouth was so close he could not only feel the breath, but the heat from the lips. If he had moved his head slightly they would have touched his ear. Marc blushed not daring to look round and when he finally did, there was no one else in the room. He collapsed across the settee, breathed deeply and experienced three separate sensations: a lightness of heart, a feeling of longing in the pit of his stomach and a heaviness in his loins. Tom came noisily into the room and challenged him to a game of snooker.

In bed that night he didn't know what to think. The three sensations had returned accompanied by a confused feeling in his head. Sleep did not come until he had relieved one of those sensations.

IX

The final days of term rushed by. Of the two rugby matches, one was won, one lost, but during his speech at the rugby dinner the 2nd XV captain had a good season to report and was back on form when it came to giving an appreciation of his players. The Advent Eucharist on the final Sunday always gave spiritual refreshment at a time of general tiredness leading to bad temper. Marc was singing in the choir so he did not have his usual contact in Chapel with Seb, who, as it was Sunday, was dressed in a dark suit which rendered his adolescent beauty immaculate.

Then the last twenty-four hours had arrived. They took the same format year after year. Afternoon lessons would be cancelled in favour of final preparations. High tea was served at four in place of supper. At six the School would put on its Christmas concert. As well as singing in the choir Marc played and sang to his guitar. He had a mellifluous singing voice, interesting as the two songs he had chosen originated from Bob Dylan and Johnny Coppin, neither of whom merited the epithet mellifluous, but at least it lent his presentation some originality. The concert was well attended by parents who would then spend the night at local hostelries and return at noon the following day to take their offspring home. Seb's parents' attendance owed much to his father's being an Old Boy and therefore nostalgia. Marc's mother and father with the other two children at home found it near impossible.

After the concert it was back to the boarding houses for their respective Christmas parties. This year, the upper sixth had decided, it would be in fancy dress and they had given half a term's notice. Marc had not given it much thought, but had persuaded Mr Bell to lend him a gown and mortar board which let him off the hook. As they were ready people gathered in the day room, but the third formers were conspicuous by their absence when with a great deal of row the door opened and two policeman were dragging in an unfortunate convict complete with arrowed suit, hand cuffs and chain and ball. Behind the large moustaches the faces of Robin and Daniel could be spotted, but more interesting was the identity of the obviously unwilling convict, whose slitty eyes and harvest of pustules meant it could only be Jackman. The third form had got its revenge. Jackman made his protestations, but to a body everyone accepted it as part of the act, joined in the mirth, but did absolutely nothing to help the wretched fellow. By the manner in which the remaining third formers paraded in with an array of imaginative costumes, it was clear they had all been needed to apprehend the deserving victim and it had been an incredibly well kept secret. As the remaining procession was wolf-whistled and cheered no one noticed Jackman being escorted to the corner of the room, made to sit on the floor and further handcuffed to a security bar in front of the window, while one of the sofas was slid in front of him.

Marc looked for Seb. He brought up the rear dressed as a ballerina, complete with tutu, wig and make-up and the object for a volley of wolf-whistles. It was interesting to see how many of the boys - in all age groups - had worked out their fantasies by cross-dressing, ranging from the ugly sisters to a buxom young nurse. The party started off with a series of sketches, some funny in their own right, but many in a satirical vein based on incidents at school or in the house during the term. The staff were naturally frequent butts of the humour. Then followed a buffet supper with a punch and finally the House settled down for Christmas carols. Marc and Tom sat on their customary settee, only today Tom had a moustachioed policeman on his lap set off by a ballerina on Marc's, such was the party atmosphere. It was all Marc could do to control himself for not only did he know who was beneath that tutu, but he had what appeared to be a beautiful woman on his lap with extremely shapely legs. He did not know where to put his hands in order to resist temptation. Jackman had been released prior to the buffet to give him time to calm down before he could do any damage. The party ended with a vote of thanks from the Head of House to Mrs Dalton and the domestic staff. A large bouquet was handed over to each and after an exchange of further pleasantries Mr Dalton dismissed the House to bed and left the arrangements in the hands of the prefects.

Marc could not resist putting his head round Seb's door to wish him good night. Seb had removed the wig, but not the tutu. Marc went in and closed the door behind him.
"You must give me your address for a Christmas card," said Marc.
"I need yours, too." Seb tore two pages out of his rough book. They wrote names, addresses, telephone numbers and e-mail addresses and exchanged. From outside there was a shout of
"Ten minutes till lights out"
"Look, Marc, I've still got to get this make-up off." Marc was staring at his ruby lips.
"We'll see each other before we go," he replied and blew a kiss before disappearing through the door. Marc was too exhausted from all that had happened during the day even to try and unravel what was on his mind and as soon as his head hit the pillow he fell asleep.

X

The last day of term had its own routine. After breakfast everyone went over to school to clear up their things there and bring them back to the houses. A final house meeting of term was quickly followed by the Headmaster's assembly in which he he handed out the bouquets, but usually kept any brickbats for the following term. However, the headman appeared pleased with what had been achieved, gave the rugby XVs various degrees of praise and encouragement and felt that sufficient work had been done over the term, reminding the School he had yet to see their reports. He finished by wishing staff and pupils a Happy Christmas which the School returned with the traditional cheers led by the Head of School. Straight out to Chapel for the End of Term Service. Since the Choir was used for this Marc would not be in his usual seat. In fact he had had no chance of talking to Seb at all that morning. The final hymn was Lord, Dismiss us with thy Blessing and finally three hundred and seven Bucktonians and their masters were free until the middle of January. Marc made haste to discard his robes and dashed back to Paxford, his one aim not to commit a sin of omission. He reached his landing just in time to see Seb struggling with a heavy case which he was taking downstairs to await the arrival of his father. Marc gave him a hand and as his father had not yet arrived they went back to Seb's study to say goodbye. Both boys felt low and empty, partly from tiredness, the demands of the term and the anti-climax, largely because they knew they would miss one another. Marc had to go to catch the school coach to the station, so he naturally travelled light anyway. They shook each other by the hand, then without further thought put their arms round each other in an affectionate bearhug. They heard footsteps in the corridor and there was Seb's father ready to whisk him away to another world.

"Hallo, you two, had a good term?" Father and son hugged one another and Seb's father shook Marc's hand.
"I don't know if it will help, Marc, but would you like a lift into Hereford? We've got room." Marc did not know whether it would speed his travelling arrangements, but it meant a little more time with Seb, so he said yes. Together they loaded the rest of Seb's stuff into the car along with Marc's luggage, joined the queue to say goodbye and thank you to Mr and Mrs Dalton and left in style. Marc had already said a personal goodbye to Mr Bell after breakfast. And so with Marc deposited at the station it was the end of a chapter and with luck on his side within fifteen minutes he was on his way through the countryside on an Inter City 125.

Back at home Marc collapsed, physically and mentally exhausted. Indeed, he tried to put Buckton College completely out of his mind, which except for one point he succeeded in doing. He was pleased to be back with the family and enjoyed the company of his brother and sister. In addition he received a lot of attention as he too had been sorely missed. Christmas shopping had to be done and in one sortie he went to Young's menswear and collected a set of cufflinks he had ordered during the last exeat weekend with the Buckton College shield on them. These were carefully wrapped and along with a Christmas card duly dispatched with all affection by registered post to Seb. Naturally Marc received a card in return. He was not expecting anything else and had hoped that Seb was not expecting the packet he would receive. As he took the Christmas card out of the envelope something slipped out and onto the floor. Marc picked it up. Under the heading Carte Postale was simply written 'MxxS, Happy Christmas'. He turned it over to see the picture. On a plain white background was printed in fancy red lettering 'Je t'adore'.

XI

Seb too reacted in a similar way back at home. The first two days he spent most of the time sleeping, in the armchair if not in bed, but by the third day he had regained much of his normal fun and vigour, every ounce of which he needed to cope with his brother and sister who greatly missed their elder playmate. He was not so introspective as Marc, but mornings as he lay in bed his thoughts did finally turn to his first term at Buckton.

The previous morning his school report had dropped through the letter box, although he had to await his father's return home in the evening to discover the contents. It contained nothing for him to worry about. Quite the opposite. It was probably the best academic report he had ever received. At his prep school the teaching had been directed towards gaining prestigious scholarships at the top public schools, and as mentioned before his best friend Guy had been successful in that quarter. If you were not aiming that high it was easy to be pushed into an academic backwater and after all Seb and the school authorities knew that come what may he was destined for Buckton College. At Buckton he had found a different attitude. To begin with the first goal was GCSE in three years' time. Secondly he had been given a certain amount of choice in his subjects, with some new ones. The teaching at Buckton was thorough and effective, more that of the traditional grammar school, and the whole ethos put work as the top priority and this atmosphere permeated by tradition from the upper sixth down to the new third formers. He had been well prepared by his father on what to expect at his new school and for once time had not washed away the old traditions. Buckton suited Seb better than his old school and he thrived on a more grown up establishment. In the sporting world too he had made his mark, gaining his full rugby colours for the U14s. He had been supportive, sociable and a lot of fun in the boarding house. So all in all Seb and his parents had every reason to be delighted at the way he was carrying on the family name and living up to expectations at Buckton.

Furthermore he had found Marc. Seb knew he had made all the running in forming the relationship, but on the other hand from the Beginning of Term Service he was certain that he had met the right person and that once formed their relationship was mutual, firm and loyal. Again he had his father's experience to guide him there, for although he did not know the details, he did know that 'Uncle' Peter, his godfather, was a close friend of his father's at Buckton, the families had remained close friends and in reciprocation his father was now godfather to Uncle Peter's oldest boy.

Seb had not seen the arrival of a registered packet. Guessing what it was, his mother had forwarded it straightaway to Father Christmas to be opened along with the other family presents. Finally Seb summoned the energy to do his Christmas shopping and send his Christmas cards.

Christmas came. When Seb unwrapped the registered packet, he was straightaway on the phone to Marc. They must have talked for a good hour for apart from the postal correspondence they had not been in contact, although both had been thinking of the other as they lay in bed at night, and in the morning. It had been a kind of self-imposed discipline, but with the arrival of the festive day that discipline had broken down. And so Christmas went, and very quickly too with the wild social rounds each family made, and with them the new year had started.

The Saturday before term was due to begin Marc was sitting with the family over breakfast. By now he was his bright cheerful self again and was feeling relaxed. Jessica and Ben had already started their terms. With the post arrived two identical envelopes, identical stamps and postmarks, different handwriting, one addressed to Marc, one to his parents. Marc did not realise that they had emanated from the same address, but on looking at his, his heart missed a beat when he recognised the handwriting. He refused to tear it open, but forced himself to slit it carefully with a knife. Meanwhile his mother had opened its twin and after reading the contents handed it to Father. When he read what was written Marc could not suppress a blush.
'My dearest M, I cannot say how much I have missed you. I've thought about you every day. Thank you for those lovely cufflinks. I look forward to wearing them at school. Why I am writing is this. Every year at Spring half term we go off skiing and because I had such a good report Mum and Dad asked if I would like to take a friend this year as a reward. Naturally there was only one answer and so I am inviting you to join us. It doesn't matter whether you have skied before or not. You will find that your parents will have a formal invitation from mine.' Marc looked up. Father was still reading. 'I hope you will be able to say yes. Do let me know as soon as possible. See you next week. Your affectionate S'

Mother and Father were giving each other meaningful glances. Marc started to explain the letter he had received.
"Can I?" he said. Father and Mother exchanged more knowing glances. There was no need for discussion. They knew when they were in agreement.
"Well," said his father, "if your mother thinks it's all right. You had better ask her." Meanwhile Jessica and Ben were making all sorts of envious noises.
"I suppose so, Marc," she said, "but we'll miss you," she added with that little bit of moral blackmail of which only mothers are capable. "You'd better go and phone Seb now and we'll write a formal reply and send it off this weekend." Marc needed no second telling. He was off to the phone, a spring in his step.

XII

Seb was looking forward to returning to Buckton College. He had enjoyed the Christmas break and had fully recovered from the rigours of the previous term. However, with the new year celebrations over life had become dull as it can be during January and February and in general he had always felt that his life lay more at school than at home. Father insisted on taking him back in the car. This was pure nostalgia, for apart from the summer holidays he had always taken the train to and from his prep school. When they arrived in Herefordshire it was a cold, dank and overcast day with patches of snow which had so far beaten the thaw. In contrast Paxford House was warm and brightly lit. Seb took his father in to see Mr Dalton briefly, then they carried his luggage up to his study. The luggage included a large tuckbox on which Father's name could still clearly be seen under a coat of paint, while Seb's adorned the present topcoat. With everything in place they went back to the car, said goodbye and Father motored off. Away from the family Seb was in a different world, but equally at home. He jauntily toddled off, enquired whether the school coach had arrived from the station and as it hadn't he went to look for a snooker partner. There in the games room was only one other person, Jackman, looking his normal revolting self with a particularly large boil on his neck. His slitty eyes lit up like a Chinese lantern when he saw Seb on his own. The lecherous grin did not scare Seb. It just made him feel sick.
"Hallo, Theb. I've been waiting for you all Chwithmath. Come here and let me thtwoke you."
"The only stroke you'll get from me is a heart attack." Jackman made his advance, but Seb was quicker and out of the door. Slamming it behind him, he noticed the key on the outside and turned it locking Jackman in. There were thumps on the door and shouts of
"I'll have your twoutherth off for this." Seb kindly left the key in the door and wandered off to the day room just in time to see the school coach draw up outside Paxford. He was only looking for one person and on seeing him, in order not to make things too obvious, he wandered up to his room, left the door open and listened for footsteps along the corridor. After five minutes they duly came accompanied by the voices of Tom and Marc. Again he displayed some discretion until he heard them part and two doors close and only then did he pad his way along to Marc's room.

He tapped out their private knock and Marc opened the door. Marc took him in, the door closed and they hugged each other as if they had been separated for years. Indeed tears welled up in both their eyes. They stood back, looked at one another and began speaking at once. They drew breath and sat down, Seb in a chair and Marc on his bed. They talked about the holidays, but much more about the coming skiing trip. Marc had brought back his skiing kit as he knew he would not go home before then. The bell for supper rang and the two were brought back into the reality of boarding school life. As they passed the duty prefect on their way out Seb casually mentioned he thought that Jackman was down in the basement playing snooker.
"What was that all about?" enquired Marc. Seb told him and Marc went red, but this time he was not blushing.

XIII

The Spring term soon got into its stride. Games were limited, not by the snow which had since cleared, but by the interminable rain which made the fields unplayable. However, cross-country was available over the surrounding farms and through the country lanes. Both Seb and Marc enjoyed cross-country, having the stamina and right physiques to do well. The indoor facilities were limited until the new sports hall had been completed, due for the new school year in September, but basketball or five-a-side could be played in the gym and there was the adjacent fitness room. Marc had been put in charge of training the juniors for the House rugby competition which would be held in the second half of term. The juniors consisted of the third and fourth form. He was sorry Jackman slipped out of nearly every practice for one reason or another as he wanted to give him a hard time. On the other hand the atmosphere was healthier without him.

The relationship between Marc and Seb continued to develop. They could hardly avoid each other in the House, while at school, apart from Chapel, they rarely came across one another even in the corridors. The relationship apparently aroused no comment. The little rituals continued, the smile, the tousled hair, the forgotten object. Life had established a normality. The Spring term was considered a time for work. Those with public exams had taken their trials immediately on return from Christmas. The boarding régime permitted three sessions a day which while pressurised did allow for normal teaching to be resumed quickly. During that time the House was run by the lower sixth.

One Thursday evening at the beginning of February Marc was on House duty. As with everything else he was conscientious. He had just made sure the fifths had gone to bed. With everyone in their own room changed for bed bedtime was like lock-up. No wandering around or music was allowed, but the individual once in his room for the night was left to put out his own lights. A system had been built into the new house whereby the individual rooms' switches could be overridden, but while the threat was always there, it had never been used. The key remained with the member of staff on duty.

As the House was quiet, Marc went off and changed for bed before making his final round. He would sleep in loose shorts and a tee shirt. So after a quick shower he put these on and pulled a pair of tracksuit bottoms over his shorts before going on his way. The day room was empty, as were the library, television room, kitchens and games room. The sixth form common room was left to its own devices. Marc wandered around all the landings, took down a 'Beware of the Perve!' notice sellotaped to Jackman's door and was just returning to his own study when he noticed a light on in the shower room. He went in and heard the shower running, wondering who had been careless enough to leave it on. He opened the cabinet door just about to turn the water off when he was confronted by Seb. Stark naked he turned towards Marc, made no attempt to grab his towel and looked up at him with a smile and that engaging twinkle of the eyes.

How could Marc be cross with him? It was the first time he had seen him undressed and could not take his eyes off him. The pectorals and the developing sixpack were sheer perfection. Marc took the towel and started drying him, much as he might have done with his little brother years ago at home and said
"You'd better hurry off to bed now. You're rather late." That was a bit of an understatement regarding a third former. They said good night and Marc disappeared off to his room before reporting to Mr Bell who was the master on duty that night. He could now turn in himself. As he lay in bed he had a contented smile on his face and whispered
"Just you wait until tomorrow."

---oo0oo---

Tomorrow was mentor meeting day, Friday. Marc thoroughly enjoyed this responsibility and none of the members of his group suffered because of his relationship with Seb. Quite the opposite. It was probably Seb who suffered a little because while their friendship was no secret, through hypercompensation the others gained a better deal, although they did not have the benefit of the 'extra coaching'. The group got on well together and with Marc, in fact like Seb, but to a lesser degree they adored him, and would have done anything for him. Tom had a similar relationship with his group.

Anyway, tonight Seb had left his handkerchief behind. There it was stuffed down the side of an armchair. On his inevitable return he had brought a bar of chocolate along to share with Marc. A peace offering? Unnecessary. Marc was just about to say something when Seb piped in with
"Not bad timing, eh?" Marc looked confused. "Last night, in the shower. You're such a creature of routine."
"So it was all planned. I suspected as much."
"You don't mind, do you?"
"I don't know what to say. I must admit I admire your pectorals and your sixpack - nearly as good as mine."
"Go on. Show me."
"We're talking about you," retorted Marc.
"But you didn't mind, did you?" he asked with a note of anxiety in his voice. Marc stretched out on his bed, exhaled and said
"I've had a fight with myself, but I've got to say it was a most marvellous experience and shows you must have one hundred per cent confidence in me." Seb thought for moment.
"I'm not quite sure what you mean, but I think you must be right."
"Go on. It's long past your bedtime and I need my beauty sleep if I'm to keep up with you." Marc was sorely tempted to take him in a hug and kiss him, but they simply said good night. Then Seb disappeared and Marc changed for bed. Little did he know that Seb had now set himself the challenge of seeing Marc naked. As he lay there he thought 'What's going on inside me?' He had that feeling in the pit of his stomach again.

XIV

Half term was approaching fast. There was turmoil inside him and he needed some time to himself to think. In this case he did not even think he could discuss it with Mr Bell, but he just needed some space, some distance. But there again, perhaps Mr Bell could help. Marc had set the weekend aside for work. Otherwise he had nothing planned. So after breakfast he went to Mr Bell's room. Fortunately he was there. Mr Bell spotted immediately that Marc was not his normal self, but he let him talk. Even Marc did not know how to begin. He was rarely emotional. Finally he started with the bland
"I need some help." Mr Bell was a good listener and too experienced to put words into anyone's mouth.
"Go on.
"It's not work," said Marc as if to reassure Mr Bell. "It's just that I need to do some thinking and I can't do that with people around me." Mr Bell's look acknowledged that he was listening, but otherwise he said nothing. He realised that something was wrong as Marc was acting out of character. He was also trying to think of a positive way to help. "You know how much I love school, but at the moment it's so oppressive."
"Is school oppressive or is it people?" Mr Bell was indeed a wise old bird. Marc's silence answered the question for him. The silence continued, however, and Marc could see that Mr Bell was deep in thought. It was the look he had on his face in class on the rare occasions he was asked a question he could not immediately answer. Marc knew better than to interrupt. It must have taken five minutes at least before Mr Bell came out with
"I've got an idea, but…" Marc waited for the 'but'. "… I'm going to have to convince Mr Dalton first." That would probably not be a problem. Mr Bell and Mr Dalton had worked together for years and he valued the work and advice of his deputy. As Marc's birthday was in August he was young for the lower sixth, but respected by the staff for his maturity. At sixteen he could legally look after himself.
"What I'm thinking about is this. You might know I have got a cottage a couple of miles from here. It's my bolt-hole when I need to escape. There's one drawback. It won't be heated until I can get there. What I suggest is that you pack a few things and I'll take you across in the car. We'll stop at the village shop as you will need some food. There's not a chippy just round the corner, but if you're prepared to rough it overnight you can stay there and I'll pick you up tomorrow afternoon or early evening. I'll phone before I leave." Marc's jaw dropped. Mr Bell had always been good to him, but he had not expected anything like this. "Go and pack on the assumption Mr Dalton says yes, but don't be disappointed if he says no. Okay?" Marc was speechless, but he managed to nod, his mouth still open.

Marc went off to pack. Mr Bell went off to see Mr Dalton. Mr Dalton was on duty that day, so he had time to listen. In fact his only objection was whether Mr Bell was concerned about the security of his cottage to which he said it was more secure with someone staying there than otherwise. Mr Bell made his way up to Marc's room to give him the good news. Marc had packed some warm clothes, his CCF sleeping bag, some bits and pieces from his tuckbox and took his guitar. He purposely left his work behind as he felt he could not do it justice in the mood he was in, but took the Harry Potter book his sister had given him for Christmas. Fortunately there was no one around when he climbed into Mr Bell's Volvo and sped off, first to the village stores. Within the hour they had reached the single storey cottage set in its own garden.

Meanwhile Seb had gone along to Marc's room and was surprised not to find him there. He went off to find a snooker partner.

Mr Bell opened the front door, picked up some junk mail and went directly to switch on the central heating. He showed Marc round the cottage and helped him stow his stuff in the spare room.
"Just one thing I ask of you, to respect my study and my bedroom, otherwise you have the freedom of the house. There'll be plenty of hot water soon. Any emergency, give me a ring. I shan't be very far this weekend, probably squatting behind a pile of exercise books." He wished Marc a pleasant stay, left him a set of keys and jumped into his Volvo and motored off.

Marc was alone. His earlier confusion had been overtaken by events. He returned to his bedroom, took off his shoes, wrapped himself in his sleeping bag and promptly fell asleep.

---oo0oo---

Marc woke about two o'clock. He felt physically recovered, but mentally exhausted and emotionally drained. The cottage had now warmed up a little, though still in his clothes he had sweated profusely tucked up inside his sleeping bag. He had brought his sports kit with him for he knew that there was nothing better than physical exertion when he felt like this. He took off his clothes and slipped on his running shorts and singlet, and over that he wore a sweatshirt, Buckton College and the school crest emblazoned on the front. He put his shoes on outside, locked up, pinned the key safely to his singlet and jogged off. Only now did it occur to him that he hadn't the slightest idea where he was or where he was going. He just took in the surroundings to get his bearings. A milky sun helped him find south-west. He needed all his concentration in order to find his way back and this kept his mind off Seb. After five minutes he came to the local village. He noted its name for now he could return to Bell Cottage, should he get lost, by asking the way to the village. The terrain was rolling countryside and on the other side of the village he found a public footpath going up a hill of pastureland. He skipped over the stile and on soft ground with the gradient against him he started to sprint. His body was working well. Christmas had inevitably taken the edge off his fitness, but almost four weeks into term it had returned and although he was putting everything into his running, his recovery rate was quick. At the top of the hill he stopped to augment his workout with press-ups when another runner, a couple of years or so older, caught him up. They got into conversation and Marc explained he had no idea where he was going. The other harrier saw the Buckton College sweatshirt and asked him if he knew Mr Bell.
"That's where I'm staying," replied Marc.
"My name's Jack and my father's landlord of The Old Spot. We quite often see Mr Bell when he's not at school. Nice chap." Marc was amazed at how small the world was. "Can you manage five more miles?" Marc was more than keen. "Then you can run alongside me and I'll take you back to the village." He soon found that it was quite a challenge keeping up with Jack, but he was not going to lag behind. The downhill parts they jogged while going uphill at a sprint. Jack would do press-ups and sit-ups as Marc followed up the hill and the concentration on the running meant there was not time for thinking. Jack was as good as his word and they arrived back at The Old Spot. Marc thanked him for the workout. Jack explained that he was representing the county in the U21s event the following weekend and was grateful for someone to run against. When Marc heard his standard he was not so disappointed with himself. They shook hands and parted and after five minutes Marc was taking off his trainers before going indoors. He took a long relaxing bath and finally just wearing a clean tracksuit turned the television on, slumped into an armchair and immediately fell into another slumber.

When he awoke he felt hungry and realised he had not eaten since breakfast. He went into the kitchen, delved into his box of supplies and made himself two bacon butties, dripping with tomato sauce and butter. He then sat down and watched Big Break. He felt a great deal better than he had done in the morning. He knew he still had to think, but it was not the right time. The cottage was really warm by now. So between television programmes and dozing he read some Harry Potter. He was enjoying the solitude. The run and solitude were exactly the right antidote. At ten o'clock it all became too much for him, so he retired to his bedroom, slipped into shorts and tee shirt, curled himself up in the sleeping bag and straightaway fell into a deep, but dreamless sleep.

It was eight o'clock and light when he came to. He leapt out of bed after sleeping solidly through ten hours. Again he put on his running kit and took the same route as yesterday. Wearing sports kit always made him feel good. He had no difficulty finding it and this time ran steadily and as fast as he could. On returning through the village he noticed the Communion service at 10.30. That would put him in the right mood for what he still had to do - think. After a quick shower he got himself breakfast, and having no dark suit with him thought the Lord would have to accept him in what clothes he had.

The sermon made him even more thoughtful. It started with the love of God for every human being, even sinners. It covered all aspects of love and reminded him of his general reading for Tonio Kröger, argued that in order to love you must love yourself as much as God loves you and before returning to the love of God it warned against spurning any genuine love. Marc had listened to every word and in a daze walked out into a bright February day of blue sky and sunlight. He returned to Bell Cottage with an inkling of the way forward.

He sat back on a garden bench situated in a sheltered and sunlit nook with his hands folded on his head. His eyes glazed as his brain got into gear. This was the first time all weekend that he had really thought of Seb. He could face the idea now. The key to it all was love, and that need not mean sexual love. After all his feelings towards the boy had by and large been paternal and fraternal, but he was attracted to him. He was attracted to him physically, by his appearance, by his nature, by his character. He had put his arms round him and hugged him. Or had he cuddled him? Did this make him gay? If it did, did it matter? If it meant being like Jackman, it did matter. And then he came to the final answer of all, the one provided by the sermon. The boy loved him. He had told him so. He had written it. He had done almost everything in his power to be in his company. He had undertaken some strange ways of attracting attention to prove it. This was the boy's love for him and he had a responsibility to return it, to requite it. QED. He had solved the problem. Now he could enjoy life again. Furthermore he could look forward to his skiing trip at half term.

Feeling that much lighter Marc decided to try his luck and seek out a spot of Sunday lunch at The Old Spot. Jack was helping his father out, so he had someone to talk to while digging in to the traditional roast beef and Yorkshire pudding.

Marc walked back to the cottage, settled down in the armchair to read Harry Potter and dozed off until the phone rang just after six. Mr Bell was on his way over to collect him. Marc hurriedly collected his things together, tidied up the rooms he had used and was ready to leave when Mr Bell let himself in. In the car on the way back they chatted. Marc told him how he had spent the weekend. Finally Mr Bell popped the question.
"Have you sorted yourself out?"
"Yes, I just needed some sleep."
"Was it about a certain third former?" Marc blushed. How did he know? Mr Bell did not say much, but then he did not miss much, either.
"You know then?"
"I know."
"Am I making a fool of myself?"
"Not in the least. You're not the first to fall in love and you won't be the last. Just ride it, enjoy it. You can give a lot of pleasure in this world and by the way, he's been stomping round the House like a bear with a sore head this weekend. You can rely on me to be discreet."

They arrived back at Paxford. With profuse thanks Marc took his things up to his room. Mr Bell had even saved him some supper and left it in his study. Marc took a plain postcard and wrote: 'My dearest S, I'm back. Cocoa after Prayers? Your M' and slipped it quietly under his door.

XV

Finally half term had arrived. For the past two weeks Marc had really been looking forward to going skiing. He had skied before, but not as regularly as Seb's family who went every year. As was usual school finished at midday on the Friday. Marc would be taken home with Seb. They would leave early on Saturday morning and arrive back late the following Saturday, in time to return to school on the Sunday. Marc already knew Seb's parents and such was the modern world that they invited him to call them Tony and Margaret. They made him feel really welcome and said he was under strict orders not to be a guest, but to act as one of the family. The way the three children treated him, it was hard to do otherwise. The following morning they had to be up early to load all their kit into the family's personnel carrier in order to arrive at Luton Airport for a 7 am check-in. From there a flight to Munich and coach through southern Bavaria, across the frontier into the Austrian Tyrol and finally to Maurach, a skiing resort at one end of the Achensee. The choice of resort had a bonus. Not only could Marc use his German, but Seb too who was in his first year of the language.

It was about four in the afternoon when they arrived. The sun was near the horizon, but before they could unpack and relax there were things to do. They unloaded their luggage from the coach. The hotel was modern and situated next to the Rofanbahn, the cable car.

Talking to Seb and Marc Tony said
"I hope you two don't mind, but they've just told us there's not enough room for us all in the family suite, so you're down the road in an outhouse, but your meals are in the main restaurant with us." There was mock despair from Seb. "Leave your luggage in the foyer. We'll take it down later. The main thing is to get kitted out tonight." The courier took the whole party down into the village where they were kitted out with skis, sticks and boots, which they took back and locked up in the basement of the main hotel. That done they had a little time to themselves until dinner at eight. Margaret took Adam and Elizabeth, the siblings, to unpack while Tony took the older lads with their luggage down to the extension. Marc had been an instant success with Elly who took every opportunity to play with him and hold his hand when they were walking along. The extension was just as modern as the hotel and even bore its name. It had the advantage of containing the indoor swimming pool, sauna and fitness room. The lads were in clover. They reached their room on the first floor and took their luggage in. It was a twin bedded room with a balcony and private facilities and a view over the lake. Tony left them with a reminder about dinner at eight.

Marc and Seb unpacked and got themselves showered and changed. Time had passed quickly and they realised they would have to hurry if they were to meet the family on time. It had started to snow, so they put on their anoraks and snowboots to climb the hundred yards (whoops! metres) to the main hotel. Elly insisted that Marc sat next to her. She had decided she was going to look after him and as with his own sister he gave in. He sat with Seb and Adam opposite him. He was amazed how different Adam was from Seb, but could see the family likeness. He would take some getting to know over the week, he felt.

The meal started with a steaming soup with a white dumpling in it. They were happy to tuck in. It had been a long day. While they were eating Tony organised the family: breakfast at eight sharp, packed lunches, and dinner at seven. When the meal was over, he suggested an early night for all. Marc and Seb went back through the snow. It was quite thick by now. They got changed for bed, tried to read, but were overcome by the strains and stresses of the day. The light was out by ten and they were fast asleep.

XVI

It was Sunday. They were woken by the tolling of the church bell. Marc looked at his watch. Seven o'clock. He climbed out of bed and drew back the curtains. Overnight there had been a heavy fall of snow. The roads and pavements were already being cleared. The compensation was that the sky had completely cleared and the sun was already shining from the other side of the mountain. Marc showered and shaved. He put on his thermal underwear, long johns and all, another tee shirt and finally his salopettes. Seb too put on a set of thermals and over this he zipped up his Gore-tex and Lycra ski suit. It stretched and shrank to give a form-hugging fit and Marc could do nothing but sit on the bed watching him. Seb was pleased it still fitted him for a second year. The streamlining effect just added to Seb's beauty as it hugged his chest, bottom, hips and thighs. Marc stroked him on the bottom in appreciation. They packed gloves, goggles, hat and a further anorak in their rucksacks, put on their snow boots and cheerfully made their way up to join the family.

The early night had transformed the family and increased the noise over breakfast. By half past eight they were ready to put on their ski boots, collect their skis and join the queue for the Rofanbahn. The cable car which was situated right by the hotel would take them up to the pistes for their first day. They had a pass for all the lifts. Just as they got to the head of the queue, the man in charge arbitrarily divided the family as his clicker told him the lift was full. So Marc stayed at the bottom with Adam to wait for the next one. It gave him a chance to get to know him for when they were all together he had been entirely occupied with Seb or by Elly.

Adam was due to go to Buckton College in eighteen months' time.
"You'll start with my little brother," said Marc.
"Seb's told me so much about the place. I'm really looking forward to going. You know Dad was there." Marc nodded. "I'm still at prep school, Seb's old school. It's all right, but a bit old fashioned. They want me to do scholarships for the bigger schools, but Dad and I have made up our minds. It's the family tradition." Without the rest of the family Adam really opened up and chatted away. He didn't miss Seb at school. He felt he could be more of an individual rather than Seb's brother. "Seb's really gone on you, you know, Marc. He missed his friend Guy when they changed schools and he's said how much you helped and made up for him." Marc knew what he meant, but he was not in the least concerned. He therefore also inferred that the family as a whole must know about their friendship, and obviously approved. They chatted away. Adam struck Marc as an obviously bright boy, perhaps more introverted and sensitive than his brother. While they were chatting away the lift had come, taken them up to the top station and re-united them with the rest. For the morning they were put into the intermediate class to revise their basic skills. The routine was morning lessons and afternoon free practice. Marc was amazed how quickly it came back. Just remember: "Bend zee knees!"

For lunch they all came down to the top station, bought drinks and consumed their 'lunch packets'. With no wind it was warm in the sun which induced the lads to a little politically incorrect sunbathing. Because of past experience the lads were allowed to go off on their own with the proviso that they kept to the marked pistes, while Tony and Margaret looked after Elly. So Seb and Adam took Marc up on the drag lift and down over the moguls which gently introduced them to a little ski-jumping.

At four they met the rest of the family at the top station and asked if they could ski down to the hotel, which they did. At one place a tree grew in the middle of the path, a hazard to be avoided by all except the author! They arrived safely at the bottom and waited for mother, father and sister and having taken off their skis, as boys do, they started to throw snow at one another. The snowball fight progressed to the point where it was Marc and Adam against Seb who had provoked it in the first place and as they went in for the kill Seb took some snow and rubbed it into Marc's face, and even worse into his hair. This called for drastic action as he made a snowball, he half rugby-tackled Seb, fell on top of him and gained his revenge, but it was not to end there as Seb put his arms round Marc and they wrestled in the snow, laughing, shouting and giggling until Marc finally said
"Give in?"
"No way, José," as they rolled down the gentle slope of the field they were in. They had left Adam behind and as they reached the bottom and had nowhere else to roll Marc realised he was enjoying the embrace and the feeling of dominance, and from Seb's grin and the twinkle in the eye he felt in no way beaten. Marc stood up, let Seb get up, squashed a snowball on his head and ran back up the meadow with Seb in hot pursuit. As they got back to where Adam was guarding the skis and rucksacks, Tony, Margaret and Elly were just leaving the lift station. They shook hands, gave each other a knowing look and walked off with the others as if nothing had happened.

They split up and Marc and Seb went off to the hotel annexe. Despite the exertions of the day instead of showering they picked up their swimming costumes and went down to the heated pool in the basement. They were the only two guests there. They swam a few lengths as they would have done after a games session at school and went and showered off the chlorinated water. A large notice in the changing room pointed the way to the sauna.
"Have you ever had a sauna?" asked Seb.
"Never."
"Follow me." Seb took off his Speedo Lycra slip, wrapped a towel round himself and walked in the direction of the notice. Marc followed suit and when they went through the door they peered through the steam and likewise found it empty, not that it would have taken more than four. Seb spread his towel out on the top bench and lay on top of it. Marc put his beside him and sat. There was strong smell of pine. He liked the smell. Seb shook the excess water out of his hair which made the aggregate hiss wildly. Marc lay back with his eyes closed.
"You're a pretty good skier, Marc."
"You're not so bad yourself," came the reply. He was experiencing that superb combination of self-righteousness and feeling of relaxation after exertion and was enjoying the heat and the steam. In a dreamy state he opened his eyes and noticed that Seb was sitting cross-legged on the bench and obviously taking great pleasure in admiring Marc's body. Without the least embarrassment he said
"You know this is the first time I've seen you without any clothes on?" Marc flexed his muscles and tightened his sixpack.
"Well, I hope you like what you see," and stood up to pose like the statue of The Thinker, but it gave him ample opportunity to gaze on Seb and reminded him of the time he had found him taking that late shower at school. Seb was smaller in height than Marc, but that apart he matched up very well. They were both very well put together.

They realised they must have been there for some time. They wrapped their towels round their waists, went back to the changing room, into a quick cold shower and they dressed. At dinner the whole family was in a good mood. Marc and Seb offered to look after Elly on the following afternoon so that Tony and Margaret could do some more adventurous skiing. Elly of course was in seventh heaven, not only being looked after by big brother, but by Marc as well, whom even after this short time she adored. The three boys went off to the skittle alley with the strict injunction to be back by ten.

Five past ten they clocked into the hotel and went up to the family's room. After a quick chat Marc and Seb said good night and wandered back to their room in the annex. Though physically tired they were mentally wide awake, so they played a few rounds of cards before getting into bed.

They fell asleep instantly. During the night Marc half woke and could remember hearing the village clock strike three. He was feeling particularly warm for stretched out across him was Seb's body fast asleep. Marc put his arms round him and went back to sleep himself. When the alarm rang at seven they were still there entwined in each other's arms. They looked into each other's sleepy eyes. Not a word. The look said all and Marc squeezed Seb and kissed him on the forehead. They lay there for five minutes before climbing out of bed and getting on with the rest of the day.

XVII

Towards eight o'clock they climbed the hill to the main hotel. It was another glorious day for skiing, light blue sky and the sun about to peep over the mountains in the east. Over breakfast they were in a pensive mood to the extent that Margaret asked them if they were all right.
"Just tired," they said in chorus, but they knew it was a cover for the real reason. Still, they took the hint, put the previous night's experience behind them temporarily and joined in the general family banter.

This morning's lesson was a revision of Wedeln. Named after the wagging of a dog's tail, it had no translation in English. Once you had mastered the basics on skis this was the one skill which made all terrain skiing possible and enjoyable. All of them had done it before, although they were rusty, but the real star was Elly. Being the youngest she had the least fears and inhibitions as well as the most supple body and the boys certainly were not going to be beaten by a girlie.

As good as their word, Seb and Marc looked after her for the whole afternoon until the family met again at four at the top station. Every time they went up the drag lift she attached herself to Marc which made it difficult because of the greater weight difference. In fact they fell off twice and had to ski down to the queue again, but Marc was determined to do his best for her and although a strain managed to keep the lift steady. Once that was mastered they took her up the Sessellift and again she insisted on pairing up with Marc each time. Only during a coke stop when she went off to the loo were the boys left alone. They needed that couple of minutes.
"You didn't mind about last night, did you?" started Seb.
"Did I kick you out?"
"No." They both realised their relationship had taken a great leap forward that night and neither regretted it.
"Look," said Seb, "we've got to make an excuse and go for a drink somewhere tonight, without Adam. I'll suggest it's his turn to look after Elly." Elly was just fitting on her skis again ready to join the boys.

As the family met up again at the top station of the Rofanbahn the boys said they would ski down to the hotel. Elly wanted to come too.
"Go on, let her," said Seb.
"She's been superb this afternoon." Tony and Margaret looked at one another and finally said yes.
"Now that means we can ski back to the hotel," said Margaret and the group took off, Adam leading, Elly sandwiched between Seb and Marc and the parents bringing up the rear.

When they reached the main road they removed their skis and walked the few yards to the hotel. Seb managed to corner his father.
"Can Marc and I go out for a drink this evening? I need to talk to him without Adam there." Tony and Seb were very close. Adam related more to his mother. He knew that if his son made such an earnest request there was something behind it. Furthermore he had a pretty good idea what.
"Okay," he replied. "I'll get Adam to look after Elly this evening, but don't make any plans for tomorrow. I've booked for us all to go to a Heimatabend."

They had all locked away their boots and skis, when the two boys parted to go and change.
"Do you want a drink first?" asked Margaret. "We're off for coffee and cakes."
"Thanks, but we're going for a swim and a sauna."
"Can I come too?" shouted Adam.
"Get your swimming things and we'll meet you at the annexe. You haven't seen our room yet, have you?" Seb was wise enough to know it was better to let him join them now, if they were going out without him in the evening.

They repeated the previous evening's routine, but this time with Adam. Marc had grown used to Seb, but he was a little apprehensive about seeing Adam naked in the sauna. But to his relief, if not surprise too, he did not find him in the least bit interesting. The three boys left the sauna, took a cold shower and got ready for dinner.

The mood at dinner was cheerful which helped Seb and Marc to forget their forthcoming chat. It was only threatened when Adam was asked to look after Elly, not so much by Adam, but by Elly who wanted to be looked after by Marc. Marc promised she would have his undivided attention the following evening and said she was such a marvellous girl she had to be shared and after this afternoon he couldn't possibly hog her to himself any more. Mr Golden Tongue won the day and the family could return to exchanging stories about their afternoon's skiing.

Seb and Marc made their excuses as soon as they could do so politely. Adam wanted to know where they were going.
"Just for a coke," answered Seb. They walked down from the main road into the village. The roads were quiet, but there was obviously a lot of action inside the various hostelries. They picked one, went in and found themselves a quiet …-ish table in the corner away from the locals' table. They sat down opposite one another. It was a cosy corner where they could ignore what was going on around them.
"How's your German?" said Marc.
"All right," mumbled Seb defensively.
"Have you done cafés and restaurants?"
"Yees…"
"Right. If you can order two beers in German I'll pay for them. If you use any English, you pay for them."
"You're on," and they shook hands on it. The waitress came across.
"Grüß Gott, die Herrschaften."
"Zwei Bier, bitte," uttered Seb with confidence.
"Groß oder klein?" Marc indicated large.
"Groß." The waitress went away and eventually came back with two half litre mugs of ice-cold Gösser beer.
"Well done" said Marc and passed Seb a ten euro note across the table.
"You ask for the bill, too."

They took a cautious sip of the beer and looked at one another. They knew what they wanted to talk about, but who was going to begin? Marc made it easy.
"That was lovely having you next to me in bed last night." Seb blushed and smiled coyly.
"I suppose I should have asked first, but I was scared you would say no."
"I think I would have," said Marc, "and look at what we'd have missed." Seb immediately looked more relaxed. Marc put his hand across the table and held Seb's reassuringly.
"I've got to tell you something. Perhaps I should have told you before, but it's hard at school. You're a sixth former, I'm a newbug. At prep school we would never have even spoken, but here it's easier. Mum and Dad told you to be part of the family and you've done just that. In some ways you've been the big brother that I normally am."

They both took another sip of their beer.
"You know that picture of Guy and me on the poster board in my study? I said he was my best friend. Well, he was a bit more than that. We were nearly expelled together."
"How was that?"
"We met aged eight when we were new. We were in the same house, the same class, the same teams. We were inseparable. Occasionally we had the mickey taken out of us, but if you are sporty and generally well-liked and perhaps brainy on top you can survive. Aged twelve our voices broke, we grew hair, our bodies changed very quickly and we became more interested in one another until one day during the last year we were found in bed together."
"Were you naked?"
"No, I still had my watch on. We weren't doing anything, anyway. It was almost like a prank. You never did anything in bed, in any case. There were always too many other people around and besides there were always the showers, usually after sport rather than in the house. Anyway, we were hauled before the Head, our parents were brought in and a bit of a fuss made. I say a bit of a fuss, a hell of a fuss. Do you know why we weren't expelled? What saved us was Guy's scholarship to King Edward's. Not that he would lose it, but because the school would lose the credit if Guy had been kicked out. After all, they couldn't kick me out and not him. After that we were under constant supervision. I was glad to get out. I'm surprised they even allowed that photo to be taken, but they couldn't really stop Dad, I suppose."
"What did your Mum and Dad say?"
"I was scared stiff what they would say, naturally, but really they were jolly decent. And that's another reason they were keen for me to go to Buckton College."
"Why's that?"
"When Dad was there as a boy, he had a close friend who was gay. He was openly gay, but he was also a good bloke. Everyone liked him, he was generous and good company, the complete opposite of Jackman. And yet the School was wholly tolerant, staff and boys. That impressed Dad. We've talked a lot. We talked with a doctor friend of his who explained a lot about homosexuality. No one chooses to be homosexual. You are or you aren't. I am. Oddly, I had suspected it from about the age of six or seven without knowing anything about it. I knew by the time my voice broke that I was interested in other boys. The sport helped that. Other kids would talk about boobs and fannies. I'd rather look at a picture of Linford Christie and Guy was the same. He was a superb athlete, very good-looking and well developed. We made a good pair."

They stopped, Seb to draw breath, Marc to think. In his mind he went back to his weekend's respite at Mr Bell's cottage. He had succeeded in clearing his mind and without putting it into words he had come to a similar conclusion about himself. Seb's thoughts and attitudes during his growing years had, he realised, been close to his own. Out of the blue after five minutes' silence he looked Seb straight in the eye, held his hand across the table and whispered
"Then I must be gay too." He immediately felt a great weight lift from his shoulders, fall from his breast and he added "You're the first person I've ever said that to. And now I can openly add 'I'm in love with you, Seb' without any fear of frightening you." Seb squeezed his hand in recognition and they slumped back into their seats.

Marc suddenly came to, looked at his watch and said to Seb
"Time to pay up and go back to the hotel." Seb paid and gave the change to Marc. When they went back outside it was frosty. An almost full moon illuminated the village. The cold returned them to the real world.
"Does Adam know about this?"
"Oh yes. We were after all at school together and he's perfectly cool about it."
"What about him? How did he take it?"
"He's disgustingly straight. He even likes girls. I know where he keeps his girlie mags, and Dad explained a lot of things to him as well. He took it very well."
"And Elly?"
"Not yet. Too young to be told anything about it. No, Dad was very good about the whole thing. He liked Guy. He explained that leaving school would mean we would part all together. He prepared me for that. He warned me about the dangers of promiscuity. I have told him about my feelings towards you and I think that's why he's pleased you're on holiday with us. Mum and Dad can get to know you and they know, to put it in base terms, I'm not doing a Jackman."

Meanwhile they had reached the main hotel. Elly had gone to bed. Tony, Margaret and Adam were sitting downstairs playing cards. They 'reported in' and Tony asked them if they'd like a small beer. They sat together until the beer came when as if on cue Margaret said
"Come on, Adam. Time you were in bed. It'll be another late evening tomorrow," and they said good night and left the three together.
"Did you have a good time?" enquired Tony.
"Yes," they chorused. "We just had a drink and spent the time chatting."
"Everything okay?"
"Fine. We've sorted everything out," and Tony was satisfied. He then started to regale them with stories of the time he was at Buckton and how much harder school life was then than now. Seb realised his bladder hadn't the capacity of nearly a litre of cold beer on a frosty night and wandered out.
"Marc, I gather Sebastian told you some bits about his old school."
"Yes, interesting."
"Are you happy?"
"Yes. It's helped me to clear my mind a bit. He said you were really understanding."
"If you haven't done so already, you'll realise what a great school Buckton is to have behind you. After all these years I still owe it a debt of gratitude."

On Seb's return they drank up, dressed to go back out into the cold and said good night. Back in their own room they got ready for bed. Marc jumped under the duvet, then peeled it back and said to Seb
"Come on." They went to sleep in each other's arms.

XVIII

They woke up much as they had gone to sleep, in an embrace. It was another fine day with the sun just managing to come over the mountain tops, except today Marc had a feeling of release in his soul. He no longer felt a need for modesty in front of Seb when he dressed or undressed. Seb had never suffered any such inhibitions. In fact Marc could now sit back, relax and watch while Seb put on or removed his clothes. Seb on the other hand, ever the showman, would put on an act for the delight of his lover and loved one. He made particular play of zipping up or unzipping his body-hugging ski suit. It gave Marc particular pleasure when the zip stuck on his salopettes and Seb came straight out of the shower and released it.

After breakfast with the family, all six took the cable car up to the pistes, followed their lessons through in the morning and after lunch pursued their own interests on the slopes. Marc and Seb went off snowboarding together and while Seb was quite experienced, Marc showed an immediate aptitude and quickly caught up. However, the star of the pistes was really Elly. After three days she had made the greatest progress and along with the confidence gained from skiing down to the hotel instead of using the cable car this meant that the family no longer had to split to attempt the more interesting runs.

Tuesday evening was the night of the Heimatabend. It took place in the Hotel zum goldenen Apostel farther down in the village. After dinner they all dressed up warm against the cold, bright moonlit sky and the frost and cheerfully made their way down the road, Elly making sure she held Marc's hand. He hoped it wouldn't make Seb jealous. When they arrived Marc and Seb looked at one another for this was the same pub they had come out to and where they had opened their hearts to one another only the evening before. Seb was determined to show off and order the drinks again in German.
"The one who orders them pays for them," warned his father. They had been shown into a different room obviously kept for functions. Chairs had been set out and as they were among the early arrivals they could seat the children at the front. The hall soon filled up and it was cosy. The show began. Four men in leather knee trousers, others in leather shorts, accompanied by four women in Dirndls came in whooping and yodelling to music from an accordion. The show carried on with traditional songs and dances including the Holzhackertanz where wood was chopped in time to the music and a dance where the men slapped each other, first on the face and afterwards in acrobatic positions on the backside. Seb could not resist it when volunteers were invited from the audience and he pulled Marc out with him. The performers were impressed when they found the two could speak German and took time to teach them one verse of a song. And so the evening went on with zither music, guitar music and accordion music and singing and they all recognised the Harry Lime Theme from Graham Greene's film The Third Man when it was played on the zither. The whole audience joined in the atmosphere of the occasion and when the family left the pub they were all in high spirits.

And so the week went on. If it snowed it always snowed in the evening or at night, leaving a fresh covering for the sunny days that followed. Until the final evening. On the Friday evening there was to be a party in the hotel. It would be attended by the ski instructors and to those who had successfully completed the course a certificate would be awarded. Friday had been a particularly strenuous day, even super-fit skiier Seb seemed to be struggling at times, for instead of the usual morning lesson the group had been taken cross-country skiing or Langlauf with the new experience of Felle on their skis. Made of sealskin the hairs acted like cat's fur. Going forward it was smooth and would allow you to glide, while going backwards it would dig into the snow and stop you sliding back. Elly insisted she should come and stuck closely by Marc who over the week had become terribly protective towards her. During the day they climbed to heights they had previously been unable to reach and at about three were all brought safely back to the top station. The children insisted on making their last descent on skis, the parents following, and it was with some sorrow that they took off their skis and boots for the last time and handed them back in at the hire shop.

Marc and Seb made their way back to the annexe. It was the first opportunity they had had to do any shopping. They refused to give up their sauna on the last day, so they gave the swimming pool a miss, went straight into the sauna, showered and dressed for the evening.

Marc wanted to buy something for his own parents and brother and sister, but besides he wanted to show his appreciation to Tony and Margaret who had been so wonderfully kind, generous and understanding. However, most important of all he wanted something for Elly and saw the biggest bar of chocolate he had ever seen - Suchard's Milka.

The two went back with their purchases, first to their room, then on to the main hotel for dinner. The official presentations followed. Marc was proud to receive his certificate, prouder to see Seb gain his and even prouder to see Elly awarded hers. Not only that, but she was given a little posy as an acknowledgement of the special progress she had made and she received a tremendous round of applause. When she came back she sat down and gave Marc a special hug. The party broke up about nine, but the family remained at their table in the hotel. It gave Marc an opportunity to express his gratitude. They then parted as there was packing to be done and an early start in the morning. Breakfast at 6.30, coach at seven. Marc was waiting for Seb who had gone up with his mother to fetch something. Meanwhile he chatted with Tony.
"Well, Marc, you've done very well this week, and not only at skiing. You've made two people very, very happy. Elly won't stop talking about you and I haven't seen Sebastian so content and cheerful for the past year or so. You won't know how much you've done to help us as a family. Both Margaret and I are grateful to you. I remember when we first met at Buckton last September. My intuition told me then there was something special about you." Marc blushed. "That bit we said last week about considering yourself part of the family doesn't end with the holiday. Feel free to visit us or ask for help any time." And Tony put his arm encouragingly round Marc's shoulder. Meanwhile Seb had come back and they were ready to go off to the annexe. They said good night and went out into the cold.

Back in their room they felt the need to relax. After half an hour of doing absolutely nothing they packed their cases and slowly got ready for bed, admiring how suntanned they had become over the week. They were ready to go to bed when Marc announced
"Don't think you're sleeping in my bed tonight." Seb's jaw dropped and he looked close to bursting into tears. "No way," continued Marc, "I'm coming to sleep in yours!" and with a wicked grin he lifted Seb up and carried him to his bed.

Next morning the coach left for Munich airport on time. In the cold half light the mood of its passengers was naturally subdued. The flight from Munich to Luton was uneventful. The family picked up the space-wagon and headed for home, arriving late afternoon. For Margaret it was a frenzy with the washing machine to get three boys ready for boarding school. Father would take Seb and Marc back to Buckton, while Mother transported Adam to his prep school.

Marc asked if he could ring home. They were all well and had received the postcards. Marc told them how much he had enjoyed himself and that he would give them a longer call when he got back to school. The children rallied round to help Margaret as much as possible. The three boys took a long shopping list down to the local supermarket and on return Seb and Adam took over the kitchen to prepare a meal. They managed a fry-up for six with amazing success. Finally they settled down in front of the television for an hour before deciding on an early night.

Sunday morning was more relaxed. The boys were occupied with packing for school and after an early lunch they parted amid profuse thanks and best wishes for the term. Elly insisted on going with Father so that she could spend as much time as possible with her Marc and she snuggled up to him on the back seat of the people carrier. Finally they arrived at Buckton. Tony decanted the boys and their luggage and after further farewells they stepped from the warm secure world of the family into the business-like secure world of Paxford House.

It had not gone unnoticed that Marc and Seb had turned up together and that they both sported a suntan among the pale faces that had remained in England. During the excitement and busyness of half term neither had given any thought to the conduct of their relationship back at school. There was no going back, but they did not dare exploit the easy going atmosphere of the school by being too open and in the short time they were taking their luggage upstairs they decided on discretion. After all they had not missed out on each other's company prior to half term. The only difference now was that they had been completely open with one another and each knew what the other thought, and also Marc was no longer a virgin. From his prep school days Seb was only too conscious of the ultimate penalty for offending against the society which, if they fitted in, could and would protect them. They were after all not the first such items in the School's history, nor would they be the last. With full Pavlovian effect the bell for supper brought them both back to the realities of school.

XIX

With less than a month to go until the Easter holidays there was much to pack into the second half of term. Marc and Seb had both gained parts in the school play, a comedy written specially by the Head of English. House matches on the remaining games afternoons and Saturday mornings involved Marc not only in training the juniors, but in his own place in the House team. However, they were a much needed form of relaxation that counter-balanced the academic demands. Marc's German literature had advanced beyond Thomas Mann to other works, but in revision he could look back at Tonio Kröger and Death in Venice with some insight which made him feel less alone in his situation. The night they returned from half term Marc noticed immediately how the days had lengthened. There was still a glimmer of light at half past six which increased the possibilities outdoors after school. The routine of the smile, the tousled hair and the late Friday visit continued. From the time of their skiing holiday one conclusion the boys had both come to was the admiration for the other's and consequent respect for their own physiques and from this arose the idea of each being the other's fitness coach. It was therefore not uncommon to see the two going for a run or working out in the fitness room after school and before supper. Their mutual encouragement was not confined to matters physical either. Marc took a keen interest in Seb's work and encouraged and helped him whenever he could. Meanwhile the thought of being possible Cambridge material spurred Marc on in his own work and kept Mr Bell on his toes with constant requests for advice.

And so term continued. One Saturday morning had seen a round of House matches played. As the seniors and juniors had played simultaneously Marc could not witness the fruits of his training sessions when the Paxford juniors had scored a victory with an exhibition of set-piece play, a credit to their teamwork. The seniors had won as well, but it had been gruelling work and score line apart of little personal satisfaction to the players. The afternoon therefore left all three hundred and seven Bucktonians free to their own devices. Many confined themselves to the boarding houses brought to their knees by the morning's events.

Marc and Seb, however, were feeling the benefit of their fitness régime and decided they would go down to the squash courts. Ever since the incident with the jockstrap the previous term Marc had discovered that the smell of a changing room, rather than being repugnant, would turn him on and after its use that morning the smell was particularly pungent. As he got changed he breathed deeply. He hurriedly put on his jockstrap and shorts for as he inhaled he could feel a heaviness spreading to his loins. Fortunately they had the changing room to themselves. Seb just continued getting changed and it was not until the pair stepped into the light of the court that Marc really noticed Seb. The exertions of the past few weeks had visibly developed his body to the extent that although he had maintained his slim figure his torso was stretching the tolerances of his white kit. He was wearing a cricket shirt so tight that it was incapable of hiding his nipples and sixpack. The shirt was not properly tucked in and had risen up leaving in full view his PE shorts. Elasticated top and narrow cut to just above the knee they clearly showed the outline front and back of his jockstrap, but as if the front were not enough what really turned Marc on now was the sight of the two straps across Seb's tiny buttocks. Marc could not concentrate on his game. Seb knew why and exploited it by bending in front of him, turning and smiling. It ruined Marc's game. Normally Seb would put up a fight, with Marc winning with very little difficulty. This afternoon Marc's concentration had again returned to the U14s rugby match in the autumn. Marc hauled one game back, but after a thorough hiding they called it a day and left the court to shower. They stripped off their clothes and immediately Marc grabbed Seb's jockstrap, folded it up carefully and placed it over his nose breathing deeply. It was sheer aromatic heaven. When he had had his fill he handed it back to Seb, much as he had done all those months ago. Nothing seem ed to make Seb lose his cool and they disappeared into the shower as if nothing had happened.

XX

As it was public knowledge that Marc and Seb had been skiing together at half term, few eyebrows were raised when they were seen together frequently about the school. The only person who seemed to take umbrage was Jackman. He would cast his lecherous eyes on both of them and so their friendship also became a form of mutual defence. The junior House rugby team did not let Marc and Tom down and in fact won all five of their matches. Indeed, as the seniors lost one and drew one it was the juniors who could be thanked for bringing the cup to Paxford. The school play was performed on the last two evenings of term. It was a social occasion not only for the parents, but for the local community who were always encouraged to come on the first night, as naturally more parents came to the second performance. Marc's parents had managed to get away to see him perform and Seb's would never miss such an occasion. Afterwards Mr and Mrs Dalton always laid on a buffet supper as the opportunity for parents to meet one another were few and far between.

When Marc and Seb had changed and freed themselves from their greasepaint they went to search out their mothers and fathers and were pleased to see they did not have far to look, for there they were seated in a corner together. They greeted their own parents, Marc said hallo to Tony and Margaret and was keen to introduce Seb to his father and mother. They had already been talking about the Austrian skiing holiday and what an impression Marc had made on young Elly. It was also nice to hear that both families had put up at The Old Spot for the night. They were sure they would have a drink together when they left later on. Marc's parents did the rounds, talking to the Daltons and especially to Mr Bell, who was only too willing to confirm the good term Marc had had. The party broke up gradually and Tony and Margaret said they would see Marc before he went off for Easter.

The boys in the House were very good at helping to clear up after the buffet. Both Marc and Seb still had some packing to do, so they disappeared upstairs. The prefects came round encouraging the younger boys to go to bed, but they knew from their own younger days that the last night of term was different and they had more sense than to spoil the party mood. Finally the noise grew less. Marc knew he had one more job to do. When it was quiet outside, he put his dressing gown on and slipped down the corridor to Seb's room. The signal tapped on the door would ensure a welcome and he went in. They both sat on the bed. Seb had not even begun to get changed. So busy had the end of term been with house matches and rehearsals that they had seen very little of each other alone and certainly had not discussed the coming holidays. Neither had plans to go away. It was a time first to relax and get school out of their systems and secondly to catch up on work that had gone by the board in the past week. Marc was certainly behind with some reading. One thing was sure, they would miss each other sorely, but lived too far apart for a day trip. While they had been talking, Marc's eyes strayed towards the photograph of Seb and Guy after the relay race. He could understand why Seb had fallen for him. For a thirteen year old Guy appeared quite a lusty hunk in his white athletics singlet and shorts. Marc looked at his watch.
"You should be in bed by now, young man."
"Don't go yet, Marc," and he started to get undressed, slowly and provocatively, a striptease without music which held Marc spellbound. The word modesty had been edited out of Seb's dictionary and everything came off before he put on shorts and a tee shirt and was ready for bed. As he got in, Marc tucked him in and finally gave him a kiss on his forehead, just as he would have done with his own brother and sister, wished him good night and slipped silently out of the room, switching the light off. As Marc lay in bed a great feeling of emptiness came into his heart.

The morning was the usual frenzy of the last day of term, finishing with the End of Term Service at midday. After that they were on holiday. Marc took off his choir robes, rushed back to Paxford to say goodbye to Mr Bell and thank him for his help over the term, and rushed even more to make sure he would not miss Seb, but he could not find him anywhere. His room was empty and so it was with a long face and great disappointment that he took his luggage out to his parents' car for the journey home.
"Aren't you pleased to be coming home?" his mother asked. "We haven't seen you since Christmas."
"Of course I am," and forced a smile as he got into the car. He waved to Tom and his parents as they drove off and he settled down for the long journey, trying with little success to enthuse over the events of the term. In the depths of his self-pity he scarcely noticed that they had pulled up at The Old Spot.
"We'll have a little lunch before we go on home," said his father. "We've invited some friends to join us." Marc was hardly in the mood to be sociable until they walked into the lounge and saw who the friends were. It was Tony and Margaret with Seb.

By the time they left a couple of hours later Marc was only slightly on the melancholic side. He had been the life and soul of the party over lunch. He sat next to Seb which meant they could not so surreptitiously touch one another. It just seemed so natural and when the coffee had been served and drunk at least they could say goodbye properly. They made the excuse of going to the toilet and once outside held each other's hand, looked into the other's eyes, then hugged one another. They went back and joined the families and on parting shook hands.

XXI

For both boys the Easter holidays were going to be a time of some emptiness. Both families were kept occupied with various activities, but being the more introspective of the two boys Marc would suffer their being parted more. However, he possessed a strong trait of self-motivation which would keep him on the straight and narrow and he would view his own situation philosophically.

Seb on the other hand would keep himself busy, or rather be kept busy by the family. In fact he visited Guy. They were after all great friends of many years' standing. They knew their close relationship was over. They were just good friends, but they were also able to swap experiences from their own schools and it was of comfort to Seb that Guy had formed his own liaisons at King Edward's. So proud was Seb of wooing Marc that he regaled Guy with the whole story which he listened to rapt. Seb needed Marc as a form of self-fulfilment, he had felt incomplete without someone onto whom he could project his emotions. He had found Marc attractive firstly for his physique, but quickly realised that a strong and mutual emotional bond had formed. He admitted that in the early stages of their relationship he had deliberately led Marc on, but that was only because ironically the younger Seb had more experience in contrast to the naïveté of the older Marc. He had taken him on a voyage of self-discovery which had ended on that Monday night in Maurach over the Austrian beer. Now they had slept together, discovered the almost insignificant pleasures which aroused the other, the smile, the tousled hair, the body perfume, the way they dressed. Seb described his efforts to see his loved one naked, and once successful he had been in no way disappointed. He dwelt on their spiritual union, his own intellectual development furthered by Marc, both encouraged by their determination to work at a corresponding development of their physiques to the extent that Guy was in awe and questioned what might have happened, had he and Seb remained together.

Marc and Seb were constantly telephoning and Marc knew Seb had caught up with Guy. In fact he was pleased rather than jealous. Marc used the holidays to think. Thinking came under the heading of 'work' and with the forthcoming Cambridge application work was an excuse acceptable to the family, particularly as he did not shut himself away in his room, but got on his cycle to go to the local library. In the afternoons he would also cycle alone out into the countryside, park up at a lonely spot and while surveying the landscape continue to think.

Part of his reading at the library had nothing to with his A-levels. It was about his own situation. He did not want to take those books home. The relevant ones were modern in attitude and took a sympathetic approach which encouraged him to be able to live with himself and realise his was not a one-off case. He was comforted by this. In the afternoon he cycled with these thoughts out to the Beacon. He lay there in the grass and pondered them. The past two terms and the present did not worry him in the least. Considering just how uncontrollable hormones can be, he thought he had escaped lightly and kept the rest of his school life in perspective. Although it was yet to arrive, he had no qualms about his term's report. There were never any bombshells like that from Buckton. Had anything been wrong he would have had plenty of warning. What did concern him was the future. He knew how time flew and that it would not be long until another year had passed and he would go off to make his way in the world while Seb remained behind at Buckton College. Here was a problem and at present he could see no solution to it.

It was not long before his report did arrive and it was as splendid and encouraging as the one at Christmas. However, it did give Marc's father a way in to talk to him.

It arrived one Monday morning after Marc's father had left for work. Marc knew he had to wait until his father's return before seeing it, but experienced no impatience. His work was after all one sphere of his life in which he was fully confident. After a lazy weekend Marc gave himself a physically punishing day. He started with a run to and round the local recreation ground, then back home. He cycled off to the leisure centre and swam twenty lengths in the bath. After a light lunch at home he went back to the leisure centre and worked away at the various machines in the gymnasium, partly of course to hone the sixpack of which he was so terribly proud. After his experiences in Maurach it occurred to him for the first time since to use the sauna. He was just about feeling the strains of the day and the steam came at the right time for his aching limbs. No one else was using it which he found a relief. He had naturally felt no qualms about sharing the sauna with Seb, not even when Adam had joined them that one time. He lay back and just enjoyed himself, slipping into that midway stage between waking and sleeping. He had been vaguely aware of the door opening and someone coming in, but otherwise it did not impinge on his consciousness, until he opened his eyes and noticed that the new arrival was none other than Seb. His heart beat noticeably quicker and he said
"Seb, what are you doing here?" He got up from his seat and as he did, he tripped and found himself flat on the floor. The comparative cold of the floor tiles made him feel fully awake.
"Are you all right?" a voice asked him and as he was helped up he saw it was a young man in his twenties with blond hair, but otherwise a complete stranger. Marc blushed and thanked him, realising his error, and to save himself further embarrassment wrapped his towel round and disappeared for a quick cold shower.

Dressed and outside in the fresh air again Marc felt more like his old self, but it played on his mind the way he had mistaken the stranger for Seb. He was grateful he had said no more and that he would probably never see the stranger again.

Over tea he was particularly quiet and this was put down by his mother to the fact that he had had such a strenuous day. He watched a little TV with the family, but it irritated him. So he made his excuses and said he would go up to bed and read.

He did not read. He lay on his bed, still fully clothed, stretched out on his back, his fingers clasped behind his head, and thought. Of course he was thinking of Seb, of himself and of the way his emotions were inextricably bound up with him. He had resigned himself to the fact he would not see, or hear, or even smell him until the middle of April. That was not a problem. There was a knock at the door and his father came in.
"Is everything okay?" Marc did not answer, but smiled at his father for fear of otherwise appearing sulky. "That was a first class report from school." Marc had in the meantime read it. Again he smiled in appreciation of the remark. "Don't forget, Marc, we still have to fix up for you to go to Germany in the summer, as well as arranging the family holiday. Have a look at these brochures on summer courses and let me know what you think, but we haven't got a lot of time. By the way we haven't discussed this with Jessica and Ben yet, but your mother and I have been thinking about camping in France. What do you think?"
"Different."
"You can book into these campsites that provide a caravan or a tent so you don't have to take your own equipment. We also wondered whether you would like to invite Seb in return for your skiing holiday." Marc's mood changed immediately and noticeably and he couldn't disguise it. He blushed. "It's all right, Marc. We know how you feel about one another. That night we stayed at The Old Spot we had a long talk with Tony and Margaret, or rather they had a long talk with us." Marc could only listen. He had by now used up his day's ration of embarrassment. "Don't worry. They've obviously had a lot of experience. Also we liked Seb the moment we set eyes on him and we'd like to invite him to France if you're in agreement." Marc heaved a long sigh of relief. Despite being sixteen he felt tears welling up. His father sat down on the bed beside him and put his hand on Marc's shoulder. Marc pulled his father down on top of him and hugged him, his eyes streaming.
"Yes, Dad. That'd be great. I'll tell you how great sometime, but not tonight." His father remained seated on the bed until Marc eventually fell asleep. He kissed him on the forehead and said good night, left just his bedside light on and quietly departed.

When Marc woke it was getting on for one o'clock. He cleaned his teeth, got undressed and went to bed properly. It was coming up to nine when he woke. The sun was shining in a blue sky and all yesterday's clouds had lifted.

Marc was beginning to understand the pain in Tonio Kröger, beginning to understand that pain necessarily counteracted pleasure. It was the Tuesday of Holy Week which meant that from Thursday evening through to the following Tuesday morning the family would all be together for a long bank holiday weekend. Not only was that a source of strength to Marc, but his parents always organised something, which would keep his mind off himself. This year the family had been booked into a hotel in the Peak District which meant a walking weekend. They would drive up on the Friday. It was on Easter Sunday during a whole day trek that Mother drew ahead with Jessica and Ben and father and son could talk. Marc talked about school, how he was enjoying his work and looking forward to trying for Cambridge. He would have to do a lot of reading over the summer holiday which he would fit in around his two trips abroad. The German course had now been booked for the first half of August and the family had fitted in the camping holiday in July. Marc had telephoned Seb and his mother written to Seb's parents. It only needed the official reply. The conversation naturally turned round to Seb and without seeming to pry Marc's father asked the odd question. Marc surprised himself about how open he was and his father listened without comment. As Marc neared the end of his narrative his father put his arm round him and said
"Whatever has happened, whatever is happening to you, your mother and I want you to know how proud we are of you, the way you have grown up so much at boarding school and we admire your gift with people and come what may we will always love you and support you."

The family returned home on the evening of the following day. There was a letter waiting from Seb's parents. It gave the go-ahead for the holiday in France. For the remainder of the week Marc was far more settled in his mind. He split the day up between his work, his fitness and his brother and sister. In their own way they had suffered from Marc's introspection at the beginning of the holidays, but all appeared to back to normal. On the Monday Marc packed his luggage, was taken to the station and waved off by mother, sister and brother. He eventually stepped off the school coach mentally and physically prepared to face a long summer term at Buckton College.

XXII

Marc made his way with his luggage up to his room. On his desk was a large envelope, obviously a card which he opened without further ado. It was from all of Seb's family wishing him a happy and successful term, but most heart-warming was the little paragraph signed 'Love Elly' followed by three kisses. Marc decided there and then to add her to the postcard list along with his own brother and sister. However, he knew the important message was that Seb was back in residence and Marc's heart was already beating faster at the prospect of meeting him. He quickly unpacked, changed and took a quick shower to freshen himself up after the long train journey. For appearance's sake he popped across to see whether his mate Tom had returned yet, and felt some relief that he hadn't for now he could go to Seb's room with a clear conscience. He hesitated outside the door and could hear his CD player churning out a disco beat. He knocked their special knock, the CD was turned down and he heard a familiar voice say
"If you're good looking, you can come in." Marc went in to find Seb dressed in a pair of form-hugging 501s and a polo shirt. Marc closed the door behind him and they hugged one another tightly. It had seemed months rather than weeks since the end of term and Marc immediately felt tears welling up in his eyes in a short wave of emotion. The first thing that Marc noticed was that Seb had grown in that short time. His adolescent growth spurt had not only made him taller, but his body appeared even more muscular, bulging out of his clothes, but without an ounce of excess fat.

Seb fetched a couple of cans from his tuckbox and they sat down on the bed together, talking nineteen to the dozen about the Easter holidays Seb had spent some time each day at the local leisure centre. He did not want to lose the fitness gained during term time and he felt it had helped him overcome the inevitable end of term tiredness. He'd particularly enjoyed swimming and weight training and what had surprised him was that his brother Adam joined in on most days, but he had been good company and a bit of competition had pushed each to new efforts. Marc was pleased he hadn't neglected the physical side, either.

They had scarcely noticed the time until the bell rang for supper. Marc and Seb split up and went over to the dining hall with their own contemporaries. Marc was pleased to see Tom and Doug again. Doug had been to America for the holidays while Tom had gone down to Cornwall for a few days to spend time with his cousins. It made Marc's holiday look really dull. The great advantage of the summer term was that the evenings were lighter. It was still light at eight and for the summer term House Prayers were always at nine and bedtimes half an hour later than in the winter. The boys could get out into the grounds once they had finished their prep. It was at Prayers that some of the euphoria of a new term disappeared when Marc caught his first sight of that sub-human Jackman who was trying to induce another fourth former to sit on his lap. The pustules were no better, the hair as lank and greasy as ever, his slitty eyes darting towards everyone's trousers as they came into the room and the new clothes made to look as if they had been put out for Oxfam by the local tramp.

For Marc, Jackman was not just a physical horror, but he had inveigled his way into his consciousness over the past few months. His physical abhorrence apart Jackman tried to behave promiscuously towards every pupil in the school. It mattered not whether he was younger or older. His reputation was known far beyond Paxford House. In fact he was more likely to prey on boys from other houses as he did not have to live with them, but in Paxford he was kept at arms' length and every so often he would get his come-uppance. The previous year in the old house the boys in his dormitory even grouped their beds so that he was isolated in his own corner, but he existed (you could not say co-existed) because of the tolerant atmosphere at Buckton College, whereas in the average boarding school he would either have been expelled or would have suffered physically. Mr Dalton, the Housemaster, and his staff were well aware of Jackman's propensities and were as vigilant as possible, ably aided by the sixth form body, but he had never actually been caught up to any misdemeanours.

Marc agonised over him for two reasons, or more precisely one and that was Seb. Firstly he was afraid Seb might be despoiled by him. He did not know how unlikely that was since Seb had stamped very firmly on Jackman's foot early in his first term. Secondly, since Marc had fallen in love with Seb and discovered his own homosexuality he did not feel he could show any moral superiority, despite the fact that both Seb and he were at the opposite end of the scale from Jackman in the human being stakes, far cleaner and less tacky and their relationship was founded on mutual love and respect. He just shuddered with inward disgust and revulsion whenever he saw him.

As was customary Marc was sitting on the settee. As the house staff came in everyone stood. Mr Dalton welcomed them all back, wished them a successful term and gave them a peptalk about exams, whether school or public. Prayers ended. Marc felt his hair tousled from behind and knew that God was in his heaven and all was well with the world. Marc then went over to say hello to Mr Bell who invited him to his study for a cup of cocoa, only the cocoa was cold, rather reddish in colour and served in a small glass. They discussed the holidays, but more particularly what Marc had read and gave him some advice for his proposed Cambridge application. He reminded him that in September he would be returning to two days of exams, the result of which would determine whether his application would receive the School's support. Then finally as Marc said he had to go to get his books ready for the following day Mr Bell asked him whether he had missed Seb. Marc blushed, admitted he had and said how much better he had felt this afternoon when he had seen him. Mr Bell left it at that. Marc thanked him, wished him good night and departed with a warm inward glow, not to get his things ready, but to join his friends in the sixth form common room where they talked and watched a little television.

The next day Marc rose at seven, showered and dressed and went over with Tom and Doug to breakfast. Chapel at nine, the smile, the smile returned and he knew that the new term had truly begun.

XXIII

Seb found little time for himself over the Easter holidays. The family nearly always had something arranged. In fact it was almost as if he had come back to Buckton College for a rest. He had sorely missed Marc in the few quiet moments of his time at home. So good had been the psychology behind the holiday arrangements that those quiet moments had only been in bed, either when he awoke or before he drifted off to sleep, but back at school he compensated for the lack of Marc's company. Not introspective by nature normally Seb had, however, had a seed sown in his mind by Marc's friendship and his education in senior school. As his parents had departed in the early afternoon and his mates not yet arrived, he had been on his own until Marc knocked on his door, alone with his thoughts. Later in the afternoon Daniel, Robin, Ian and Josh arrived in dribs and drabs and he was busy catching up with their news, which went on over supper and up until Prayers. After Prayers he noticed that Marc was not around and went back to his study to finish unpacking and to get ready for the next day which took him until bedtime. Strangely he felt tired, but not sleepy. After a shower he took off his dressing gown and slipped into bed naked, as he loved to do, trusting there would not be a fire drill on the first night and secretly hoping Marc might just pop in to say good night. As he lay there his mind wandered, and it wandered to his relationship with Marc. Austria had not changed everything; it had confirmed everything. Firstly he knew that whatever his feelings for him were, Marc's were the same, it was a mutual and trusting relationship sealed when Marc openly came to the realisation of his own sexuality. What had begun way back in September as sheer sexual lust, a stopgap for the loss of Guy, had turned into love and respect. His love for Guy had been overtly sexual and he had been prepared for that to happen with Marc when the moment was right. He felt that Marc, being the elder, had taught him a lot socially a nd academically while it was just because of his past experiences that he had more to teach Marc in the sexual sphere. Their interests had grown together for although from early on they had sport in common Seb was now finding a love of his school subjects was growing and at prep school he had never enjoyed French and Latin as much as he enjoyed them at Buckton, and in addition he now had German, all encouraged through his conversations with Marc. Seb realised how lucky he was, that he had everything going for him and all he had to do was to think positively, act sensibly and enjoy his good fortune. With that he drifted off to sleep and was woken by the prefect on duty at seven.

As it was Tuesday Seb knew he could look forward to his first cricket session of the term in the afternoon. But first was his smile at Marc in Chapel.

XXIV

The term soon slipped into routine. Once the Beginning of Term Service, Headmaster's Assembly and an admin period were over it was straight into normal lessons after break. The summer term had its own routine, but something else was creeping into Marc's and Seb's schedule, given the longer days. Again this emanated from their time in Austria aided by their sporting interests. It was their emphasis on personal fitness, spurred on by their unspoken love and cultivation of the body beautiful, for while they openly acknowledged their physical attraction to one another they had never talked to each other about the attraction their own bodies held for them, although their actions and body language betrayed it to the casual observer. Marc was proud of his sixpack and was to be seen flexing his muscles. Seb needed little encouragement to take off his clothes and knew of course the effect that had on Marc. Since Austria their spending time together had roused but little comment, even less when the two families were seen together at the end of the Spring Term. And so prep completed it was nothing to see Marc and Seb go off for a run, or swimming after school or squash at weekends.

But it was at squash that Seb provocatively took the lead. There were no cricket matches on the first weekend of term, so Marc booked the court for ten. Rather than change in the house they would always take their kit with them. The changing room they found empty. Then just as he had done in the hotel in Maurach Seb slowly took off all his clothes, constantly conversing with Marc so that he had to look at him. He took his time taking his squash kit out of his bag, first his socks, then his jockstrap which he slipped on and adjusted, next his top which reached down just below his waist, followed finally by his shorts.

Seb had a perfectly good pair of tennis shorts, but anticipating Marc's reaction he would pull on his PE shorts, the ones with the elasticated top, cut narrow and long in the leg and made of translucent cotton. Marc just stood and watched open mouthed, his heart thumping, then took up the challenge and changed in identical fashion with Seb sitting on the bench watching every movement including the added flexing of the muscles and tightening of the sixpack.

Marc won the match. It was an interesting contest between the two. Marc had the advantage of age and experience, but Seb was growing fast and closing the physical gap. Seb was the more natural sportsman of the two, but Marc was the better at racquet sports. In a short time it was not all going one way.

The game over they went to shower, but led by Seb it was the reverse process, the slow removal of the squash kit, but together. Immediately Seb had removed his sweaty jockstrap Marc gave in to temptation, picked it up, carefully folded it and put it to his nose, absorbing the perfume of Seb's loins. Then they went off to shower. As they came out they looked around for their towels and then they noticed them, but not where they had been left. With the noise of the water they had not heard anyone come into the changing room. If they had it would not unduly concern them, except that this someone was Jackman on the prowl. He stood there holding the towels, waiting for some fun, hoping the towels would become a bargaining tool. The expression of delight on his face at seeing naked flesh soon froze to horror when he realised whose naked flesh it was. Marc and Seb said nothing. They just looked at one another, nodded and zoomed into action. Marc covered the door to prevent his escape, while Seb chased and grabbed hold of the unfortunate.
"You've come for a shower, Jackman?" enquired Seb and assuming the answer the two picked him up, took back their towels and carried him into the shower fully clothed. Seb turned on the water. If Jackman tried to say anything they turned him so that he got a mouth full of water. "Your hair needs washing. Did you bring your shampoo?" said Seb.
"Gurgle gurgle," came the reply. Meanwhile he had fetched Marc's two-in-one shampoo and conditioner from his bag and between them they gave his greasy mop the first wash it had had for days if not weeks. They turned off the water and went and dried themselves and got dressed.

As they left the changing room to return to Paxford they noticed there had been an April shower - the perfect cover if anybody asked questions about why Jackman was soaked. As they entered Paxford there was a lot of jeering at Jackman and enquiries about getting caught in the shower. At that point Marc and Seb walked past, looked at Jackman, looked at each other, smiled and said nothing.

XXV

Work apart the major concern at school the next week was cricket. With matches the following Saturday net practices took place after school each day there had been no games lesson. This meant Marc could wander down and watch the U14s. Throughout the age groups competition for a team place was intense with only eleven places within a year group of sixty upto the fifth form, although a 3rd XI was run for the sixth formers. Occasionally B teams would be fielded to encourage the up and coming, but as it was policy to hold matches only on a Saturday competition was fierce for a team place. Marc liked his cricket, but admitted himself that he was not outstanding and was quite content to find that he had been awarded a place in the 3rd XI.

At the end of such an intense cricketing week and on the night before the first matches of the season it was not surprising that conversation should readily turn to sport at that Friday's mentoring meeting. The third formers were keen to tell Marc that Daniel, Robin and Seb had gained their places, but the greatest surprise of all was when Robin announced that Seb had been appointed captain. There was a tumult of applause and everyone thumped him on the back in congratulation, including Marc who experienced an immense feeling of pride.

Into May the 1sts, 3rds and U14s were playing away against one of the cathedral schools. It had been one of those 3rds matches. Buckton had won the toss, but realising they could be weak they put Cathedral in to bat in order to make a match of it. As luck would have it Buckton got the opposition out just before lunch for 61, the highest scorer being Extras. Buckton were in with a chance, but knew whatever happened it would be over pretty early in the afternoon and they would have to wait around for the 1sts and the U14s to finish. Marc went in to bat at number five and was partnering his mate Tom. Stonewall Jackson would have been proud of the fight put up by Buckton, had he not been distracted by the thrill of watching some grey paint dry. Marc actually gained the top score with ten before being bowled middle stump. However, the match did reach a climax. Tom was still in bat with eight runs when Doug at number eleven came in. Doug knocked a four on the last ball of the over which brought Buckton College to a total of sixty runs — two needed to win. Tom settled down at the other end to face. He hit the ball fairly and squarely through the covers, shouted yes to Doug and they ran. Tom looked to Doug for the winning second run. Doug shouted, but Tom misheard and then suddenly realised that Doug was halfway down the wicket. He ran like mad, pushed his bat forward as he was in reach of the crease, but not far enough as the throw from the outfield by sheer fluke took the bails off as he was but inches away. The match had been tied on sixty-one runs.

The teams clapped each other off and before changing took an early tea. Marc sat between Doug and Tom as they had an earnest discussion as to whose fault it was, at one moment pacifying them and at the next stirring them up even more. Tea over he decided to wander off and watch the U14s. He was in luck. Seb was still in bat and looking over the scorer's shoulder Marc could see he was on forty-eight. He looked resplendent in his snug fitting whites and his appearance took more of Marc's attention than the cricket. He cut a superb profile. A four on the next ball gave him his half century, but the following one abruptly ended his innings taking his off stump out of the ground. He was there to clap him off. He congratulated him and let him take off his pads and gloves which he went and put away into his bag in the pavilion. Seb came out again and joined Marc, saying he would walk round the boundary to keep a captain's eye on things. It was an excuse to wander off with Marc. Marc had brought his camera with him and could not resist asking for a photo.

As Seb posed (how he wished he had kept his pads on and his bat) Marc was about to take him in profile when he said
"Seb, don't forget to take your box out." Seb turned to him and grinned, his eyes twinkling.
"I already have," and awaited the click of the shutter. As he turned away Marc saw through Seb's cricket whites the straps of his jockstrap across his buttocks. He immediately experienced that threefold feeling again: a lightness of heart which made him gasp, a feeling of longing in the pit of his stomach and a heaviness in his loins. Seb knew what he was doing and continued to tart as they completed their circuit of the boundary, adding cheekily
"I see you've still got your box in under your whites!" For once Marc did not even blush, but just put his hands in his pockets as they walked on together.

Aided by Seb's fifty-two the U14s won with two wickets to spare. The 1sts went on to the bitter end at seven o'clock for a draw, so it was an odd mood in the coach back to Buckton College - a win, a tie and a draw.

Back at school the coach disgorged its occupants who made their way back to their separate houses. It was too late for the sixth formers to go into the local town. Marc was tired, not from the cricket, but from the waiting around and the journey. At least the day had taken him away from his work. He changed out of his school uniform and slumped down in a chair in the sixth form common room to watch the television.

XXVI

The term was racing on. School life was slowly altering as the public exams started and put the fifth and upper sixth forms out of action. Both in school and in the houses the lower sixth had to shoulder more responsibility and Marc had more duties to carry out. Not that he minded, but it did cut down on his sporting activities, which meant that he couldn't be alone with Seb quite so often. Also they both had to remember that school exams were approaching which Seb might easily have ignored as it was his first year at Buckton but for Marc keeping his mind focused.

It was the Friday before the Whitsun Bank Holiday, half term. As usual CCF parade was cancelled and school ended at midday. Marc was due to travel home by train which unfortunately prevented his acceptance of an impromptu invitation to lunch from Seb's father, but at least they could have a short chat before the school coach left for the railway station.

For both boys half term was a welcome break from school, its routine and its stresses, unfortunately tempered by their being apart, but for ten days they could hack it. Both caught up with sleep over the bank holiday weekend. Marc's treat was an overnight stay in London in cousin Susan's flat, Seb's a day spent with Guy whom he had invited to visit him. Marc handed in his film to be developed and when he saw the photos of Seb he ordered two framed enlargements, but was disappointed they had to be sent on to school as they would not be ready in time for collection. He also took the opportunity while in town to go shopping for clothes for the busy summer holidays. In the evening he took Susan out to dinner and on their return he was completely pampered by the adoring flatmates. If only they knew. Seb also was forced into shopping for clothes and sports kit, undergoing as he was his growth spurt. In one sense the week went too quickly, in another not quickly enough until they saw one another again.

When Marc returned from London, his mother had some good news. She had telephoned Tony and Margaret and on Sunday both families were going to travel down to Herefordshire to take the boys back. Poor Adam had already gone back to prep school. They were going to meet in The Old Spot for lunch primarily to discuss details of the approaching camping holiday in France. Marc was overjoyed at the thought of meeting Elly again and wished he had known before going to London. He wanted to take her a little something. It would also be an opportunity for Jessica and Ben to meet Seb before they went off on holiday.

After London Marc settled down to some revision and soon the appointed day arrived. Marc's kit packed and loaded, the family set off just after eleven for a one o'clock rendezvous. Seb and his family had already arrived and as Marc's family walked into the bar both Seb and Elly ran towards him fighting to put their arms round him while Elly gave him a great big kiss. The introductions among the siblings over they got on with the important things - ordering the meal.

At table Marc had been commandeered by Elly while Seb was flanked by Jessica and Ben. To everyone's relief the children all took to one another immediately. It was a pity Adam was not there to complete the group. Lunch had gone so well that Ben and Jessica were quite happy to travel on to Buckton with Tony and Margaret while Elly and Seb shared the back seat with Marc in his parents' car.

It did not go unnoticed that the two families arrived together, and mixed up, but no eyebrows were raised. It was just assumed that Seb's and Marc's families were good friends which, of course, they were by now. The Daltons had laid on an informal tea on the lawn for parents at which Mr and Mrs Dalton welcomed the two families together. This was not the first time they had met Ben. More than ready to join Buckton College, but with another year to wait, he would make a worthy replacement for his elder brother when he left. Indeed he looked very much as Marc did in the third form with the most noticeable difference of the blue eyes set in the same open face. As happens so often in families, as number three he had neither the responsibility nor the authority of the oldest sibling, but compensated by being the entertainer, the clown, the jester, more extrovert than Marc, more than cheerful and lively by disposition and ever ready to join in with a joke. Tough and energetic Ben was potentially a better sportsman than his brother, but while bright and intelligent in the way he came across he was still too young to have proved himself in the academic field.

Marc's parents took the opportunity to peel off without the children to have a word with Mr Bell. They presented him with a bottle of sherry after hearing that so much of his had been consumed over the year. They had a long chat about Marc, particularly his social development, but Mr Bell assured them that there was nothing to worry about and that he would be in touch if there were. Finally the luggage was transferred to the studies and the two families took their leave in such a manner that it would have been near impossible for an outsider to distinguish who belonged to which. After much handshaking and hugging the families climbed into their own cars and motored off. Our two boys felt somewhat relieved and relished the ensuing silence.

"Seb, I've got something for you, but it's got to be posted on."
"That's odd," answered Seb. "I've got something for you, but it's not ready yet," and they left each other in suspense.

On the Tuesday the post brought Marc a large flat package. He knew what it was and only had time to say
"Seb, it's arrived," as they passed fleetingly in the corridor at school. They had arranged to go running after school, so Marc decided to hand over his gift when they returned. However, the weather turned nasty. The juniors had to use the indoor cricket nets for their games afternoon or go swimming. The sportshall was nearing completion, but would not be in commission this term. Therefore they checked the squash court and found it free. This was just the opportunity Seb wanted. He simply hoped they would have the changing room to themselves. They were in luck. They went through their usual ritual, then started to play. Seb already had his eye in from batting in the nets and was more warmed up. Consequently he gained the upper hand and could notch up a victory. They came back into the changing room. After the Jackman experience it had become their habit to check to see whether he was lurking there. They were alone.

The changing ritual continued and when Seb had stripped off he handed Marc his jockstrap, the one he had been wearing all afternoon, and Marc took his customary sample of the bouquet. He was pleased he still had his shorts on, so effective was its scent. He handed it back to Seb who carefully folded it, the nametape facing outwards, placed it neatly into a clear resealable polythene bag and handed it to Marc.
"You can keep this one. I had to get some new kit over half term, so I bought three new ones." He produced them from his bag, all three with his name sewn on prominently. "There's the cricketing one," and he put his hand in the pouch, "an ordinary one, but in black - that'll get you going - and I couldn't resist this one," he said showing Marc the third. "It's for ballet dancers, I suppose. I like the idea of the single strap going up the back, but it won't be any good for squash," he added giving Marc a knowing wink. Marc was stunned into silence. He wasn't embarrassed, he wasn't insulted, surprised yes. Since that first experience in the autumn term he had never hidden his jockstrap fetish from Seb who always made sure he enjoyed it. It was the trouble that Seb had been to which amazed him. He unsealed the strip and took another sniff and said
"Seb, I don't know what to say apart from thank you. That's wicked."
"Just keep it sealed. I'm getting just that bit too big now to give it a refill." Marc snorted with laughter and hugged him in gratitude. Then they went off and showered.

When they got back to Paxford it was time for prep, but five minutes before the end Marc slipped along to Seb's room with his packet. Invited to enter after their normal signal Marc said
"This is for you, Seb," and handed him the photograph taken in May after Seb's half century. It had captured everything - the grin because he was pleased with his score, the warmth of his twinkling blue eyes and the very masculine profile in his brilliant white cricket kit. The picture defied even Seb's modesty. Marc took the enlargement from its frame, turned it over to show where he had written: 'To my dearest Seb, with all affection and congratulations on the half century. Your own Marc.' with the date. Six months ago it would still have been initials for the names. As Seb hugged him and kissed his forehead Marc explained he also had a copy for himself which he asked Seb to autograph after Prayers.

XXVII

Part of the mentoring tradition was that the mentors took the third form out on an activity day. Marc and Tom had decided to do what their own mentors had done. So they combined groups for a day's walk in the Welsh Hills. They had persuaded Mr Bell to drive them in a school minibus to Hafren Forest from where they would follow the River Severn up to its source at Blaenhafren on Plynlimon. It meant a bit of a sacrifice on Mr Bell's part as one of the objects of the exercise was that the mentors should be in charge and not dependent on a member of staff. However, he seemed pleased to do the job for two of his A-level pupils and said the sacrifice would be compounded by his having to find a country pub and have a good Sunday lunch. He also booked out two of the School's mobile phones in case any emergency should arise. However, as they had four years' CCF training with D of E behind them he felt that he need not be too concerned on this glorious June day when it would not get dark until ten at night.

Marc and Tom combined their mentor meetings that Friday to brief the groups together. It was to make sure that they were properly kitted out, maps were available, packed lunches had been arranged and any extras could be bought from Mrs Miggins at the School shop on Saturday morning. Those in school teams had to get their chums to do it for them.

So Sunday morning at eight with the sun shining in a cloudless sky the third form and their two mentors with rucksacks boarded the minibus with Mr Bell at the helm. It was not too bad a journey for as far as Llanidloes they were largely on trunk roads. There they gained their first sight of the River Severn as they crossed it and doubled back. Mr Bell took them along the scenic route so that they could view the vast Clywedog Lake before dropping south again into Hafren Forest. Before departing he used Marc's camera to take a group photo. The mentors stood at either end, but the third form had mixed themselves up to show a united Paxford front. Only Seb made sure he was standing next to Marc with his arm round his shoulders, although he did balance the picture with his other arm resting round Daniel's. Having arranged for Mr Bell to collect them at six they waved goodbye to him as he drove off, picked up their rucksacks and started on their way.

At first the terrain through the forest was reasonably flat. The map-reading had to be done with care for the Severn had several similar looking tributaries, but the rule of thumb was to keep right. They passed the measuring station and did their best to raise the reading of the water level - amber alert in Gloucestershire in four days' time! At last the ground began to rise. The longest river in Great Britain had become a wide stream which they crossed at will according to where the path was easier to follow. In the forest the warmth of the sun made it feel humid. Finally they came to their first resting point, the Hafren Falls. The fall itself was perhaps six or seven feet high, but the advantage was that as it poured between two rocks it formed a shallow pool deep and large enough to swim in until the river carried on its way. The river is at this point far away from human habitation. They could expect to see nobody else all day until Mr Bell came to pick them up.

The lads shed their rucksacks and started to get changed into their swimming gear, quite happy until an expletive rent the air. Everyone turned round to look at Seb who had unrolled his towel only to find that he had forgotten his swimming trunks.
"Oh well, nothing else for it," he said and at that stripped off all his clothes, jumped into the water and stood under the falls as if he were standing in the shower. Marc could not resist a photo, and Seb's devil-may-care attitude simply encouraged the others who either followed him in naked or stripped off their own swimming trunks not to be outdone. They swam and chased and splashed one another for a good quarter of an hour, little affected by the temperature of the water, before they had cooled down. Some taking advantage of the occasion sunbathed without their clothes on, but as the excitement came to a natural end they started to dry themselves off and get dressed for the rest of the climb. Once they were out of the forest it was clear pastureland complete with sheep and they had left the humidity behind.

The climb, while steep, was not challenging. They passed the first bridge over the River Severn - two wooden planks with a single handrail - which must have been there since the year dot. Finally the terrain levelled out into what looked like a series of mud pools (it was in fact peat) and an ancient signpost in the format of the old Great Western signs informed them that they had reached the source of the Severn. Here they decided to have lunch. The day was still young, so looking at the map and taking a compass bearing they decided to head for the source of the River Wye, just over two miles away, but were even more disappointed to find, assuming they were in the correct spot, that it had dried up. There was no sign to comfort them, but the formation of the ground looked right.

They headed back the way they came. The breeze and the altitude made them feel cool. Then the descent along the banks of the Severn. Once back in Hafren Forest they left the river at one point to go straight down a track at the bottom of which they rejoined the river. The tributaries, the measuring station and they were soon back at the picnic spot where the minibus had left them. Half an hour or so until Mr Bell was due back, so Tom took out the mobile and tried to ring him. In the wilds of Wales he could get no signal so the group just sat around, consumed any remaining food, changed their walking boots for trainers and simply chilled out.

When Mr Bell turned up a few minutes early they greeted him cheerily, climbed into the bus and departed. Among themselves they had agreed that they would stand Mr Bell dinner for giving up his Sunday. They broke the news to him. It was just a matter of finding a pub in Llanidloes. To judge by the chatter, both in the bus and over dinner, it was clear everyone had had a thoroughly enjoyable day. However, it was not the source or the scenery, it was not the sense of achievement either, but the skinny-dipping which had won the day. The real success had been just a group of lads out together for the day, enjoying each other's company. Mr Bell just smiled to himself. Dinner and the attendant relaxation over they rejoined the bus still jubilant, despite being healthily tired. On arrival at Buckton College Mr Bell was thoroughly thanked, as were Marc and Tom, and then it was Prayers, showers and early bed.

XXVIII

The end of term and the end of the school year with just five weeks to go were approaching rapidly and at the same time the School was entering that serious period in the run up to internal examinations. With Cambridge within his sights Marc wanted to put up a good showing in all three of his A-level subjects, especially since school support would depend so much upon them, plus the additional school exams he would have to sit at the beginning of the Autumn term which would determine his UCAS ticket. Meanwhile the continuing fine summer weather beckoned towards the outdoors. The sacrifice was his sporting activities with Seb, but Marc even turned that to good use at the following Friday mentoring meeting. He decided to gather his five together outside on the lawn for cocoa and the meeting and it seemed an ideal spot to be, in the cool of the evening with the sun not even setting yet. To begin with they just wanted to talk about the trip to Plynlimon and Marc was wise enough to give them their rein. The day out had obviously been a great success and of course they wanted to know whether the photos were ready, but that would not be until after the exeat weekend. He then talked about his first climb to the source of the Severn when he had been in the third form and could link it up to the way his mentor advised them to settle down to some revision and take the school exams seriously, to the point where one of his group had left them after a disastrous academic year and it hadn't been a thickie either. There were murmurings that perhaps Jackman could be prevented from doing any revision. He would not say who the replacement was, but told them that with their own studies now they had a better opportunity for private revision.

As the meeting drew to its natural conclusion Marc was pleased to see that Seb had left his maths file behind on the lawn. He could be sure of a visit, for he wanted to reinforce what he had said. Back in his study as he sat going over some Latin irregular verbs the knock came and Seb entered in his dressing-gown. He could now tell him that their evening runs would have to stop during the week, but they could still do things together at weekends. Seb's face visibly fell. Marc did have the impression he had not fully taken in what he had said at the meeting. It was a hard, but useful lesson in avoiding self-indulgence and their own relationship apart it demonstrated what personal power, if not charisma, the senior boys had over the juniors.

As Seb stood up from sitting on Marc's bed his dressing gown fell open revealing that he was ready for bed. He had nothing on underneath. Marc smiled at him shaking his head, said "You little tart" as he felt the threefold pangs, patted him on the bottom and sent him off to his own room.

During the build-up to exams the atmosphere in the House became tetchy, it did every year, and at last exams were upon them. The Buckton three sessions a day system concentrated the mind. It was not so bad for the sixth form as they had revision periods inbetween, but it certainly kept the fourths and thirds quiet. The upper sixth and the fifths were coming to the end of their public exams and either disappeared on work experience or were found things to do at College. Many used the time to upgrade their fitness for sportsday and the swimming gala.

Exam week ended at midday on the Friday and the remaining inhabitants were sent off for the exeat. Marc and Seb said a fleeting goodbye as the former was taken off for his train and the latter waited for father to turn up. There was little protest at their parting for both were mentally whacked and in need of a weekend's TLC. The long weekend also gave the staff an opportunity without sports and duties to get through their exam marking. The following week was strictly for the return of exams and no other distractions were permitted.

Marc was pleased to be with his family again and his mother made a great fuss of him, probably not fully appreciated in his state of exhaustion. Over the exeat he did remember to take in his film for developing and arranged for it to be sent directly to school. Mother and father said they would take him back to school as it was summer and he did not need to be back until Prayers, giving him more time to recover. So at a quarter to nine he was deposited at school along with his travelling bag and he knew he was back in the routine when he felt his hair being ruffled as the House was dismissed from Prayers.

Marc found out that he had done rather well in his exams. His mate Tom had pipped him by one percentage mark in French, but he gained his revenge by coming undisputed top of German. The Latin was not too bad either. In the evenings he could start up his fitness régime again with Seb, with the added incentive of the House athletics and swimming competitions. With a week to go lessons officially ended for the term before lunch on the Friday. The CCF exercise weekend meant two nights sleeping out with a return late Sunday afternoon - physically demanding, but mentally refreshing. Marc and Seb had resigned themselves that they would not meet that weekend; they never had on CCF activities.

Finally the last week. Monday practices: sports, swimming, modern language plays. Tuesday sportsday: Paxford came third in the House competition, but the compensation was that Seb repeated his achievement of the year before at prep school, running at number four for the winning U14 relay team. Meanwhile Marc came first in the open 1500 metres. He was free to take a picture of Seb running, in red house vest, brilliant white translucent nylon running shorts which could not hide the black jockstrap. Wednesday morning the swimming gala: here again both Marc and Seb excelled, feeling the benefit of their sessions in the pool after school. Marc asked Tom to take a picture of him along with Seb in their scrungies, him in his yellow and royal blue Hom Lycras and Seb in his turquoise Speedos, both holding their certificates. Wednesday evening the modern language plays in which each year took part with contributions in French and German. Thursday practices: for a concert in the evening and Speech Day on Friday afternoon. Both Marc's and Seb's parents would be there then.

XXIX

Thursday was to prove the most interesting day of the week for Marc. He had just ended his last House duty of the term. How relieved he was not to have been given the last night. He was driving the stragglers over to breakfast and as the last to leave had no one to walk over with until Terry from a neighbouring house caught up and started reliving the House swimming gala. As he slumped into his seat at the breakfast table Dave Lane from the upper sixth told him Mr Dalton wanted to see him straight after breakfast. Marc started racking his brains about his House duty. Had he forgotten to lock up? Had there been a riot after lights out in the fourth form shower? Why hadn't he checked to see whether anyone had tied up Jackman with own dressing gown cord? Anyway, once he saw Mr Dalton he realised that it wasn't that serious and he left his study as if walking on air. He got through the practices. He had not seen Seb all day, but on the other hand had been too busy to dwell on the fact. He managed to get most of his packing done, always worse in the summer as they had to empty their rooms completely. The concert started at seven. This time Marc only had a couple of pieces to sing with the choir. As usual the Daltons were holding a reception for those parents who had attended the concert and Marc was pleased to see that Tony and Margaret were there, but disappointed that Elly hadn't come with them. He still sent her a weekly picture postcard when he wrote them to his own brother and sister. They were booked in at The Old Spot again and Marc was overjoyed when he heard that they had arranged with his parents to have a family dinner together the following evening.

Eventually the guests drifted off and Prayers could get underway about ten. Marc sat on the settee as normal with Tom, a gaggle of third formers behind them. With prayers said Mr Dalton could get down to the business of the meeting. It was mainly admin, warnings not to let the high spirits get out of hand and to make sure that on the next day when the School was on show everything ran smoothly.
"And finally you will have been wondering who the Head of House for next year will be." The silence became absolute silence for only one of the pupils knew who it was and as Marc braced himself he heard his name being announced. There was a cheer from all of the third form, some extremely violent hair ruffling and the warm applause that accompanies genuine approval. Marc tried to get up to go and be congratulated by Mr Dalton, but the first two attempts failed as the third formers pushed him back down into his seat.

Prayers over Mr Bell congratulated him personally and invited him up to his study for a celebratory cup of cocoa. Meanwhile it was off to bed for the rest of the House. Seb went upstairs with his third form friends. It would be some time before they finally settled with midnight feasts and other high jinks. At last under coercion from the sixth formers who had seen it all before and who were more than ready themselves to hit the hay the younger members of the House went to bed.

Seb took a shower first. For bed he remained completely undressed, set his alarm clock, climbed beneath the duvet and immediately sank into oblivion. At two o'clock his alarm rang. He woke up straightaway, rather sleepy, and reset the clock which he put into the pocket of the dressing gown he was now wearing. He listened. It was all quiet. He could always say he was going to the toilet. His lights off he slowly opened the door and peered out. No one about. The corridor was lit by dim night lights. He tiptoed along the corridor until he reached Tim's room, knocked the knock, more out of habit than wanting to wake him, turned the handle without waiting for an answer and crept in. After a year of mentoring he knew the layout well. The door closed behind him he crept up to the bed and gently woke Marc with a kiss on his forehead. Marc woke, gasped with surprise, put his bedside lamp on and smiled. Now fully awake Seb took off his dressing gown and stark naked he did what he had been longing to do since Maurach and climbed into bed alongside Marc. Seb's chilled body forced Marc fully awake. He was powerless to resist. He did not even want to resist and finally in an embrace they both fell back to sleep.

At six o'clock Seb's alarm clock rang again. In a trice he was out of bed, switched the alarm off and had put his dressing gown over his bare body. It was already light. He kissed Marc gently on the forehead again and silently returned to his own room.

XXX

Marc woke up a quarter of an hour before he had to get up. His mind was in a confused state. He had dreamt he was back in Austria skiing and that he had just spent one of those wonderful nights with Seb's naked body cuddling up to him. As he slowly came to and sat on the edge of his bed he realised that it had been so warm that he had taken off his shorts and tee shirt which were now lying on the floor. He had the smell of Seb's body, so perfectly preserved in the sealed jockstrap, in his nostrils and still feeling hot and sticky he made a dive for the shower, at first warm and then cold to bring him back to the land of the living. He got dressed, white shirt and dark suit for Speech Day.

Now fully awake he was at one with the world and tidying up his room he found a spare alarm clock on his desk. So it hadn't been a dream and on realising what had happened a broad grin spread across his face. What an end of term - 1500m champion, winner in the swimming gala, good exam results, Head of House designate and now a thoroughly enjoyable night with Seb behind him.

He had to go and see him. He walked along the corridor, tapped on the door and on hearing the reply walked in. He was taken aback to see Seb in a dark blue suit, pale blue shirt and an U14 colours tie. He looked so grown up. He gazed into Seb's twinkling blue eyes.
"I believe this belongs to you," he said, trying not to grin, and held out the alarm clock.
"Just habit. I always leave something behind." Marc could resist no longer and just had to take him in a bear hug.
"That was very naughty of you, but so nice that I can't wait until we're on holiday."
"You will have to. I wasn't going to tell you this, but I've got a double sleeping bag at home."

It was time for breakfast. More Speech Day practices, Headmaster's Assembly. The new prefects were announced. As Head of House Marc would automatically be one, but he applauded particularly loudly when Tom's name was read out and rushed to congratulate him afterwards. Early lunch and into Speech Day. Marc received the sixth form German prize, but his heart leapt when it was announced that Seb had gained the third form prize for progress. He was conceited enough to think he might have had a hand in that. Straight from Speech Day into the End of Term Service which traditionally struck the heart strings, especially among the leavers. Marc, sat with the choir thinking 'this time next year…', had no chance of seeing Seb. The hymns were sung well by the School - Jerusalem, Guide me, oh Thou Great Redeemer, Lord, Dismiss us with Thy Blessing. Finally the Blessing, the Recession and School was out, over, finished for two months. The pupils could find their parents and depart. The coaches were lined up to take the railway travellers to the station. In ten minutes Buckton College would be a ghost town.

Marc found his parents along with Jessica and Ben. Seb found his along with Adam and Elly. Tony and Margaret insisted that they should all go and pay their respects to the Daltons and joined the queue. Marc was more laid back. This was after all his fourth end of Summer Term and he knew with a little patience the school and house would be clear. He didn't have to say goodbye to Seb as the two families were meeting later at The Old Spot, so Marc concentrated on loading the car while telling his mother and father his good news. He had been right. The school drives were now practically clear of people, pupils and cars. Marc's parents made their way with Jessica and Ben to Mr Dalton's study, while Marc went off to see Mr Bell. Of course he was looking forward to the holidays, but on the other hand he loved the community at Buckton and would sorely miss those close to him. He thanked Mr Bell for all the help he had given him - the weekend cottage in February, the extra advice and encouragement with work, his personal interest and his understanding for what Marc had undergone emotionally during the year. Without his support it could have gone so very wrong. Finally he expressed his appreciation for being appointed Head of House, certain in his own mind where support for that had come from. They shook hands and with a friendly pat on the bottom Mr Bell sent Marc on his way.

On the stairs he met the family going in the opposite direction as he went to say goodbye to Mr and Mrs Dalton. This farewell was probably a little more formal than the one in Mr Bell's study. Again Marc expressed his gratitude, reciprocated by Mr Dalton who asked him to come back a couple of days early again to help prepare for the new school year. He was also asked who he thought would make good mentors for the new third formers and he added three names to the debate. Mr Dalton would be in touch during the holidays, but meanwhile he wished Marc a good time in France and Germany and reminded him he would need all his strength for the following year.

Reunited by the car Marc's family motored off to The Old Spot where Seb's tribe was waiting for them. Elly ran and hugged Marc. Adam was introduced and it was of help as he and Ben would be starting together at Buckton in just over a year's time and because of their elder brothers both would be in Paxford House. It needed a large table to seat all ten of them. Marc was flanked by Elly and Seb and while Elly took most of his attention Seb was making a special effort to entertain Ben. Jessica and Adam on the other hand were getting on like a house on fire and several times had to be recalled to planet Earth or they would have missed out on food.

It was going to be a late evening. While the coffee was being served Marc and Seb made their customary excuse and left the table. The sun was just above the horizon and they managed to walk in the garden away from the gaze of the restaurant windows. Their parting was not so poignant this time for within a week they would be reunited on their camping holiday in France. They sat briefly on a secluded seat surrounded by the heavy perfume of honeysuckle. Marc turned to Seb, held his hand and stroked his knee.
"Thank you for last night. Only you could have planned that. Je t'adore." A cool breeze blew up reminding them they should go back inside.
"Not goodbye, but au revoir and auf Wiedersehen." Seb squeezed Marc's hand and Marc kissed him on the brow. By the time they rejoined the main party, their ardour had cooled and they sat down to drink their coffee.

The departure was swift and painless. In the car on the way home Marc was silent, but by no means down, quite the opposite. He was quietly counting his blessings, what he had learnt at school over the last year, what he had discovered not only about himself, but about human nature and others. Who said boarding school was a narrow existence? The good times with Seb were flashing through his mind starting with the fact he had been seduced by him and even more enjoyable the manner of that seduction. He had achieved a lot on the gamesfield. Would he have done that without the competition and encouragement from Seb? How could he have learnt so much from a boy over two years his younger? He was going home with an academic prize in his pocket and the appointment as Head of House. What did the immediate future hold? The possibility of Cambridge, two visits abroad including an uninterrupted fortnight in the company of the one whom he loved and who loved him. What more could he want?

XXXI

A few days later Seb and Marc's family were safely ensconced on a campsite on France's south-western coast. The weather had been hot and dry, but it was a bearable heat which made camping a pleasure. Marc's father and mother had hired a caravan minus its wheels, an immobile mobile home, with Jessica and Ben, while Marc and Seb shared a two room tent. The advantages of the system were such that all the gear for a camping holiday was provided, which cut down on luggage, and also the tented area was some hundred yards away from the caravan site, which meant that Marc and Seb were not only nearer the shower block, but they were to a certain extent on their own, for which Marc's mother profusely, but unnecessarily apologised.

It had been an odd day. At least Marc had found it so. They had been visiting a theme park and had spent a thoroughly enjoyable time, but something was wrong. Was Marc the only one to notice? Seb was definitely out of sorts. He confirmed that there was nothing physically wrong with him, but he was quiet and withdrawn whereas normally he would be one of the instigators of any fun or mischief among the children. Marc's parents just put it down to tiredness, the journey had caught up with him and they had been going to bed late and getting up early with the long days of July.

Marc could not get to the bottom of it, but felt that whatever was occupying Seb's mind it would be better to keep busy rather than mope around in an atmosphere of self-pity and so with his agreement Marc said they would organise a barbecue for the family and had indeed gone off to the campsite supermarket to buy provisions. The campsite had its own barbecues and it was just a question of 'putting your towel' on one before the Germans did.

Both Seb and Marc enjoyed preparing food. At boarding school they had little opportunity, but would make up for that in the holidays. To cut a long story short the barbecue was a great success, both in the culinary sense and in so far that it achieved its purpose of taking Seb out of himself. There threatened to be a hiatus when Jessica enquired about one of the steaks she had eaten, for it had possessed a flavour of its own. Marc had the foresight to ask her if she'd enjoyed it before Seb informed her that the pre-pack had been labelled cheval. Ben failed miserably to make any capital out of it.

It was elevenish with a glow still in the sky out to sea before the party finally broke up and the family divided to go to bed. A full moon was rising and a cooling, salty breeze was blowing in from the sea, making the temperature comfortable and keeping the mosquitoes at bay. Marc and Seb undressed for bed. Seb had kept his promise and brought his sleeping bag despite Marc's mother's protests that they were provided and so he didn't need it, but then she did not know that it was a double one and in any case he said it was made of cotton as he could not sleep in a nylon sleeping bag. Marc fell asleep immediately, only to wake up an hour later. At first he blamed the full moon which was shining straight in through the plastic window of the tent, but when he found that Seb was not only awake, but had not slept a wink he immediately sympathised with him.
"What's the matter, Seb? Are you homesick?", an odd question to put to someone who had spent six years at boarding school.
"No," he replied.
"Do you feel sleepy?"
"Not now, I feel completely refreshed."
"Do you want to go for a walk?"
"I'll tell you what. I'd love to go for a swim."
"You're on."

The boys sprang out of their sleeping bag, slipped on shorts and a tee shirt each. Marc put on his sandals, Seb his trainers, they grabbed their towels and wandered along the path towards the beach. In the bright moonlight Marc could not help staring at Seb who had selected his (Marc's) favourite long-legged, thigh-hugging, elasticated-topped gym shorts. As they walked along he slipped the fingers of his right hand inside the back while resting his thumb outside on the elastic. Seb reciprocated.

"You know why I can't sleep?"
"No."
"Well, it's the same reason I've been in an odd mood all day. It's the first anniversary of the day Guy and I split up, the day we left prep school."
"So that's what's got you down?"
"Not exactly down. It's just made me thoughtful. And what I've been thinking about is not so much leaving Guy - that was inevitable anyway - but about us and what you mean to me. Mind you, we did part in style. At the End of Term Assembly the leavers had to go up onto the stage and shake hands with the Headmaster. I went second to last, Guy still nominally head boy last. They'd decided it would cause too much embarrassing explanation to sack him. After we'd both shaken hands we walked down the steps together with our arms round each other's waist. It didn't go down terribly well, but there was little they could do, especially as they had hushed everything up. In a way I've got a bit of a conscience, not about that."
"What do you mean?" In the meantime they had reached the beach. As the tide was going out, they put their towels on the sand just above high water mark. There was no one else around, so they lay down and put their arms round each other's shoulders. Marc knew better than to break the spell and go straightaway splashing into the sea. He was a good judge of atmosphere and he had realised that Seb finally wanted to talk and consequently needed someone to listen.

"Well, you probably think that your meeting me and us getting on so well were completely fortuitous." Marc made a nondescript noise to show he was listening. "You remember our chat back in Maurach? I was determined to tell you the truth, which I did, but I didn't tell you the whole truth because I didn't know how you would take it. It could have turned you off completely and that would have hurt us both. Now, four months later, I know I can tell you anything and everything." Marc felt privileged. What he could not tie up, though, was the robust extrovert Seb at school with this tender and sensitive Seb lying beside him on holiday.

"Let me explain. When I started at Buckton, I was determined to fill the gap left by Guy. To a certain extent it was pre-planned on my part, but I didn't know how to carry out the plan. Guy and me, we just grew up together, and you can't just go up to someone like at a disco. You could very quickly get yourself a slap and despite my defiance the previous term I was determined to fit in. It wasn't very long before I spotted that monster Jackman, either. I'd been encouraged to respect Buckton, with father being an old boy, and after a year there I really do. Yet on the very first night there you were. By the way you were staring at me I knew you were interested - that's experience - and the moment I saw you I was smitten."
'That's more than I did,' Marc thought to himself.
"You were, you are so handsome and you've got that sparkle in you and when I saw how clever you were - remember the GCSE results? - that clinched it and I made it a personal challenge to win you over.

"Next day at Chapel I couldn't believe my luck sitting opposite you, and you were staring again. On that first day I found you so hot that I couldn't bring myself to look at you. Then it all happened. I couldn't have planned it better myself. You were a mentor, I was in your mentoring group, and once we had been formally introduced there was not only the basis for a relationship, but you smiled at me next day in Chapel. After that ruffling your hair, leaving something behind in your room each time, they were part of my devious plot."
"Not so devious, looking back," said Marc, "it was all so obvious with hindsight, and I was so slow because I didn't even fully understand my own feelings till our chat in Maurach," Marc sighed. They lay there in silence. However, all kinds of thoughts were racing through Marc's head. While he had always found Seb a considerate boy, he hadn't realised he was so deep and sensitive. He could ignore his scheming nature. Seb was now emotionally exhausted. He lay there just staring into the moonlit sky. The tide had now receded noticeably. Marc spoke first.
"Are you ready?"
"I'm ready," at which they stripped off their clothes and ran naked into the sea.

They swam and chased, ducking and diving until their physical exhaustion matched their emotional exhaustion, left the sea, dried each other and out of a fit of sheer caprice put the other's shorts and tee shirt on. Marc was surprised Seb's clothes fitted and came to the sudden realisation how much his adolescent growth spurt had progressed. He was nearly as tall as him. Seb said
"I can now see why you like me in those shorts so much," quite a compliment considering the effect the sea had had on them.

They walked briskly back to their tent, undressed and climbed into their sleeping bag. The sun was unusually high in the sky when they eventually woke the following morning.

XXXII

The years have now passed. How many I shall leave you to calculate, dear Reader, but sufficient. This was never to be a sad tale and if off-beat the ending is nonetheless happy and of good fortune. Marc we saw as someone caught up in the circumstances of his own nature and nothing was to alter there. Seb on the other hand had shown that he knew what he wanted and having received one blow to his fortune at prep school was determined never to preside over another in his life and such was the combination of Seb's (self-) determination and Marc's overall reliance on the vagaries of fortune that their destinies remained entwined in a most logical manner, but where to begin? 'Begin at the beginning and go on till you come to the end: then stop,' as the King of Hearts said very gravely to the White Rabbit.

The meeting of Marc's and Seb's families in The Old Spot was fairly near the beginning. The friendship between the two families flourished enormously and in such a way that forces the actual beginning back to the first skiing holiday in Maurach. However, more of that in a moment.

After France Marc and Seb returned to Buckton College for a very happy year. For Marc it meant hard work, but boarding school also meant that they could spend time together. Seb blossomed in his studies to his later advantage. During Marc's upper sixth year both families went skiing in Maurach during the February half term and while Marc and Seb were billeted in the annexe again, in the main hotel a deep friendship, which had originated from the previous summer's meeting in The Old Spot, was not only developing between Adam and Jessica, but, aided by a little connivance with the two elder brothers, consummated by these two thirteen year olds in the same room where Marc and Seb had first given expression to their passion.

At the end of that school year Marc and Seb parted, physically but not spiritually. Marc left with three A-levels at grade A and went up to Cambridge on a four year modern languages course. In the same autumn Seb entered the fifth form at Buckton, accompanied by Adam and Ben in the third year. Seb could not deny that he missed Marc. He had prepared himself for the event and compensated by concentrating on his work and sport. Ever the schemer he worked at his modern languages and eventually gained entrance to Cambridge just as Marc was about to return for his finals after the gap year in Germany. To celebrate Seb flew out to Greece in September to meet him for a fortnight's holiday which they spent together on the island of Mykonos.

After graduating Marc had been appointed as a junior lecturer and not uninfluenced by his reading of Thomas Mann in both his academic and personal life he worked on his doctorate in twentieth century German literature.

Time went on and during that time the families maintained their close links and over the years Jessica's and Adam's friendship had developed into romance and finally into marriage. Thus Marc and Seb became brothers-in-law.

But we must not forget Elly who was the very feminine incarnation of her elder brother, particularly in her determination. In due course she came of such an age as to go up to Cambridge in her own right, although law was her interest. All this was a convenient arrangement. Elly had been fully aware for some years of the relationship between her brother and her brother-in-law / future fiancé, but did not find that a barrier to espousing the one she had continued to love from a very early age.

A cool and rainy May had given way to a glorious and warm, but not over hot June which had suited Elly. Now she had graduated with a first in law she had for the next couple of months other things on her mind, for the first Saturday in July was to be her wedding day. It was not without trepidation that she had summoned up all her courage one February to use the woman's leap-day privilege to propose to her brother-in-law, Marc. He had remained her childhood sweetheart from the time they first met when he had joined her family for their annual skiing holiday. Their relationship had been odd, to say the least, but it had also stood the test of time and he was still the only man in her life. Conversely it could be said with some irony that she was the only woman in his.

When Elly had come up to Cambridge three years ago her intended was lecturing and writing his thesis. Although he occupied his own rooms in college, he had also been sharing a large house just outside Cambridge for some years with Seb now for some months his brother-in-law. Marc had bought Oddstones out of his share of a family inheritance. Elly also took up residence there when she came up and now Marc was set to become Seb's brother-in-law twice over

Despite the fact she had full knowledge that Marc and Seb had been lovers from their schooldays Elly had continued to adore Marc and since those early days in Austria he had been constant in returning her affection. Indeed, through that holiday Marc had been made an honorary member of the family and consequently, mainly through their contacts at Buckton College, Marc's and Seb's families grew ever closer. Having grown up in supportive families they all accepted the relationship and Elly's love for her brother extended to viewing her fiancé as something shared in the way she had shared everything with her brothers. Adam, the younger one, had married Marc's sister Jessica some months earlier. Elly also knew that Seb would never marry and had been brought up in the expectation of lifelong care for him.

With ten days to go before the wedding Elly had temporarily moved out of the shared house. She would return after the honeymoon, while Seb had arranged to work abroad for a few months to allow the couple to settle in. All this had been negotiated with the tolerance and family love of their upbringing and any jealousy between them in this ménage à trois would have reared its head long ago. But now Elly was with her parents. It was the Tuesday before the wedding and Marc's stagnight, his last fling as a bachelor.

Seb's brother Adam had with a little help from Jessica not hesitated to organise the evening, as Marc and Seb had done for him before their wedding, and so during the late afternoon there was a gathering at Oddstones, the Cambridgeshire house, of Old Bucktonians with the addition of Guy, Seb's friend from his prep school days whom Marc had as it were known long before he actually met him. Among the party was Tom, Marc's closest contemporary at Buckton College, and Ben, Marc's brother and Adam's great mate from his schooldays.

Adam had booked a table at the Mayflower, a Chinese restaurant in Cambridge, for eight o'clock and so the six were using the time to settle in, have tea and pose for a photograph of this special gathering. Over the last few days Jessica had made a marvellous live-in housekeeper, which had not been easy with the rolling programme of change in the domestic arrangements, particularly with the decorators, to make it possible for Marc and Elly to live together while Seb kept his apartment. There was no shortage of bedrooms to accommodate the visitors and Jessica would disappear to let the lads have the run of the house that evening.

At half past seven they climbed into the family space-wagon, Adam at the wheel having pledged to avoid alcohol until their return to Oddstones. The journey into Cambridge only took twenty minutes at that time of day and Marc had his own reserved parking space in college. The choice of the Mayflower met with everyone's approval. They were shown to a large round table with a big lazy Sue set in the middle and with six they could order a wide variety of food so that they each could try everything. Such was Adam's organisation that each guest had made a generous contribution to the kitty to ensure Marc had a send-off into matrimony that none of them would forget.

Seated in the restaurant and with the first course in front of them they all started to feel more relaxed. The four members of the family were naturally used to one another's frequent company, but over the years since Buckton Marc and Tom had only met occasionally, Marc and Guy perhaps more so, but Guy was a newcomer to Ben. Naturally they all had news to catch up with. Marc, the one academic, now had the title Doctor in front of his name which led to some natural leg-pulling when he was asked to diagnose their imaginary ailments. Tom was something successful in the City.

The seating arrangements were not to prove insignificant, either. Marc was flanked by Tom and Seb. Seb's other neighbour was his old friend Guy who in turn had made sure he was sitting next to Ben, little able to disguise the instant attraction he had found for him, while Adam completed the circle between Ben and Tom.

First of all they caught up with what had happened to them over the past years since Marc's and Tom's departure from Buckton. They had all followed the natural trend and gone to university. All had graduated with creditable degrees and followed successful careers. As expected, Guy, who on completing prep school parted from Seb after an intense relationship, had achieved as much as expected and more at King Edward's and gained a place at Oxford where he not only took a first in natural sciences, but had gained a blue in rugby. He was now engaged in research with one of the pharmaceuticals. On the rebound from his affair with Seb at prep school he was proud to report that he had been deflowered within a month of starting his new school, not unexpectedly as he had manipulated an assignation one Saturday night with a member of the U16 rugby squad whose physique and reputation both on and off the field had already inspired him and having made it a personal challenge he had in the changing room after that morning's school matches made it clear to him that he would be available in one of the practice rooms in the music school that evening, at a time when most of the school population had drifted into the city. He was not disappointed for after only five minutes of vamping on the piano the door of the sound-proofed practice room opened and his suitor had arrived. Not only had he enjoyed the experience, but he found he had won acceptance at various levels in schoolboy society and while gaining the reputation of being a lush, with his attractive and desirable body he made sure he also played hard to get and was only got by the ones he had chosen. Seb listened intently even though he had heard the story before and Marc was not uninterested, but it was Ben who sat there open-mouthed, hanging on his every word, something which had not gone unnoticed by Guy.

Ben and Adam were able to bring the company up to date with Buckton. During their time Mr Dalton had given up the House and Mr Bell duly become Housemaster of Paxford, an appointment universally approved. In the year after Marc and Tom's departure the hideous Jackman (Marc gave an involuntary shudder at the mention of the name.) had been expelled not, surprisingly, for his usual obnoxious behaviour, but after a series of petty thefts had been laid at his door. Few lost any sleep over that. Such was the universal dislike of him that the community had combined to ensure he was caught.

The evening rolled on with obvious enjoyment by all those present with plenty of laughter and entertainment. Two things had gone unnoticed by the assembled crowd, the passing of time as it was now near to midnight when the bill was finally presented and paid and the ever increasing attention Guy paid to Ben with the quiet compliments on his appearance and the surreptitious physical contact unconsciously returned and encouraged by the younger. As the company left the Mayflower to walk back to Marc's college a cooling breeze had sprung up, welcomed after the warmth of the restaurant. They had unwittingly split into pairs, Adam with Tom, Seb with Marc and perhaps not so unwittingly Ben with Guy.

At college the night porter on his rounds recognised Marc and said
"Good night, sir" and locked the barrier after the space-wagon had left. In the back seat Guy already had his arm round Ben who snuggled up closer, pretending it was the effect of drink. Safely back at Oddstones the space-wagon disgorged its contents into the house, the party could begin and Adam could have a drink. The CD was switched on and the Rolling Stones played. The sixpacks were taken out of the fridge and as soon as Marc saw them he could not resist displaying his. The sedentary academic life had not even after all these years led him to neglect it. Seb, Guy and Ben then had to display theirs, which forced the hands of Tom and Adam who lost the competition.

The music and the beers flowed. They danced and suddenly there was a ring at the doorbell. Who could that be at this time? The house was set back in its own grounds and the nearest neighbours were two hundred yards away, so they couldn't be disturbing them.
"I'll go," shouted Adam above the music. At the front door were two burly policeman whom Adam ushered in. In the dimmed lights and their hyped-up state the others did not notice that there was something not quite right about them. The music stopped and the officers enquired who lived in the house. Marc and Seb sheepishly admitted they did and were informed about complaints received from the neighbours about a disturbance. Marc looked shame-faced and said it would not happen again, but before the party atmosphere was ruined Adam offered them a beer.
"Not on duty, sir," came the reply. They looked at their watches and said "But as we finished at twelve we'll join you." They turned round, took off their jackets, their caps and their moustaches and still not instantly recognisable it slowly dawned on Seb who they were. It was Daniel and Robin, contemporaries of his at Buckton and members of Marc's old mentoring-group. Seb ran towards them and shook their hands in a hug while Marc nearly fainted in surprise. Recovering he too greeted them heartily.
"Sorry we couldn't make it earlier. When Adam invited us we told him we work in London and wouldn't be able to get away until late. Anyway, we're both taking a duvet day tomorrow so we thought we'd motor up and surprise you." It was indeed a surprise.

They all sat down. Adam fetched a couple more six-packs from the fridge. The beer flowed, the tongues got looser until someone suggested they played Spin the Bottle. Seb shouted
"Strip Spin the Bottle" and in their enthusiasm they all agreed. An empty wine bottle was fetched from the kitchen and they were just settling down in a circle on the floor when Seb piped up again with
"I want to play Dress Spin the Bottle" with which he got up, disappeared for a couple of minutes and returned completely naked carrying his clothes and sat down.

He had not lost the beautiful physique he had honed since adolescence. His body was meatier, better proportioned, but still without an ounce of fat and he knew it. Marc could not ignore him as he craftily took his place at the opposite edge of the circle and his days at Buckton College flashed through his mind leading up to the present evening, for their relationship had not ceased with leaving school and it had not been a coincidence that they were sharing a house. The bottle was spun. There was bound to be a hidden agenda and as it was his stagnight Marc suspected it was him. He hadn't been far wrong, except that a new and unexpected factor came into play. As if by coincidence the first spin pointed to him, Marc, and he was glad he still had his tie on as he casually discarded it. He spun the bottle and this time it stopped on Seb who got up, strolled over to his clothes purposely left at the far end of the room and put on a sock. The game proceeded pretty evenly until the bottle pointed to Guy. He took off his belt and threw it over his shoulder, but now every time he spun it, it would point at Ben without fail. Ben had been one of the most lightly dressed anyway and it was not long until he was down to his slip and it mysteriously ended there. Guy had gone as far as he wanted to and obviously did not wish to humiliate him. Seb was up to two socks and the others in various states of undress. Marc remained largely unscathed, his last garment discarded being a pocket handkerchief. The bottle pointed at Seb again. He put on a tee shirt. The bottle landed on Guy who removed his tee shirt, sent the bottle spinning to land on Seb. He got up, sauntered across the room picked up a jockstrap, a black jockstrap.
"The black jockstrap," gasped Marc half aloud and felt his heart pounding. The bottle fell on Adam and then Robin who sent it gyrating to point at Seb who simply said
"I'm out now, got up and minced across the room well aware that his black jockstrap contrasted with his pale skin and white tee shirt.

The game was over. Ben put on his shirt and trousers, sat on the sofa with Guy while everyone else flopped out in chairs. It was nearing three. Outside there was a glimmer in the east heralding the early dawn. Everyone was exhausted. The party had come to its natural conclusion.
"Time for bed," said Marc. With Tom, Seb, Robin and Daniel there he was immediately whisked in his mind back to Buckton and the end of the Friday evening mentoring sessions. Adam, ever mindful of his responsibilities as the organiser, helped Robin and Daniel to bring their things in from their car and showed them to their rooms. The party broke up and everyone said good night.

It was not long before complete silence reigned over Oddstones. Complete silence? Not quite. For those who had not fallen into an immediate slumber might have heard the movement of Seb as he made for Marc's room. His idea of getting undressed for bed had been to take off the two socks he was wearing while keeping on the tee shirt and jockstrap. This was Marc's night and he was determined they should both enjoy it. Moving in the other direction was Guy on his way to Ben's room. He had invested a lot of effort in this evening and was about to reap the dividend.

XXXIII

It was seven o'clock and Marc was sitting in the kitchen over a cup of coffee and the Daily Telegraph crossword. He always got up at much the same time even after a heavy night and the bright sun in a clear blue sky was reflected in his mood. He had left Seb in bed asleep, put on his step-ins and come downstairs. It was not unusual for them to sleep together still and Marc enjoyed feeling Seb's naked body next to his and found it no way at odds with sleeping with Elly, just different.

At that moment Ben came in dressed in a pair of shorts and a tee shirt looking equally bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Now that they were both full grown the casual observer might have mistaken them for twins despite the five years difference in age. Closer observation would have revealed a difference in the colour of their eyes.
"You look cheerful," remarked Marc.
"What a night! Normally you would say you couldn't remember what had happened. It's quite the opposite with me. I remember everything in detail."
"What did you think of Guy?" Marc had not missed much the previous evening, he never did, and now he was probing.
"What a man! He showed me a thing or two I'd never dreamt of." The two brothers had always been candid with one another.
"Go on."
"I was just dozing off when there was a knock at my door. Before I could get out of bed or even say anything it opened and in came Guy. 'I thought you might want this,' he said. It was my pen. 'You left it in the restaurant.' He came and sat on my bed and at first just talked. I was fascinated. I hardly noticed what he was doing with his hands until finally he lifted the duvet and climbed under with me. And after that it was like magic."
"Is that your first time?"
"With another bloke? Yes. I'd never even thought of it before and now I feel great this morning."
"You? I'd never have thought it, either. Welcome to the club," and Marc took his brother in his arms and hugged him. "What do you want for breakfast?"
"A full fry-up? And by the way, I didn't take a pen to the restaurant!"

The others appeared in dribs and drabs. Marc had appointed himself cook and provided whatever they wanted. Despite the previous night they all had hearty appetites even if they were themselves a little jaded. About ten Jessica turned up and after a cup of tea took Adam off. Slowly the party broke up until Marc and Seb were left on their own. In a secluded corner of the garden they sat swinging together on the sun lounger and with odd murmurs of conversation enjoyed the warmth of the sun.

They were both in nostalgic mood. A combination of sun and gin and tonic made them talkative.
"It's odd," started Marc, "how our lives have become inextricably involved. All right, I know you worked your butt off to get to Cambridge."
"That was because of you, Marc, because I wanted to be with you and also you taught me to work at school."
"So you ended up at my college just as I came back from my year abroad, taking the same course as me!"
"You know you had made such a good impression there that they encouraged applications from Buckton."
"I do now, but I wouldn't have known that as an undergrad. I'd bought Oddstones so it seemed the obvious thing for you to come and share with me."
"Then Elly came up just as I returned from the year abroad," continued Seb, "and we all got organised when she moved in. Anyway, I wouldn't have been without her for the world."
"I'll drink to that," said Marc casually lifting his glass of G&T to his lips, "and look what it's led to."

"Do you remember that first week in Maurach, Marc?"
"How could I forget?"
"Over the years I've come to realise what a little schemer I was. It probably all seemed to have happened by chance to you. The only part that fortune played was joining in with my plan."
"How many years have we known each other?" interjected Marc, "and I still underestimate you." Seb continued.
"If I'm honest, I suppose after the Guy experience I came to Buckton looking for a continued sex life, but among my contemporaries. However, I became so infatuated with you that sex came second to love. Even so I did spend most of that first autumn term at Buckton working out how I could seduce you. After prep school I didn't dare try it on at Buckton. I don't think Dad would have been quite so supportive a second time, particularly because of his love of the place."
"That didn't worry you that summer term on the last night." Marc giggled at the thought
"That was different."
"How?" Marc's question remained unanswered.
"Then there was the House Christmas party, you know, the fancy dress one when I came dressed as a ballerina. I was sitting on your lap and you didn't know what to do with your hands. So that was a huge failure." He gave a stage sigh. "I nearly got to the point of shoving your hand up my tutu, but at that moment we had to go and eat. Then over Christmas Mum and Dad made the suggestion I took a friend on holiday with us. The rest was easy. From then on I had it worked out to the last detail, but one, and how could I know we would be sent off to the annexe to sleep? I knew the annexe was there because we'd used the pool and the sauna, but before that I'd always stayed in the family suite with the others. Anyway, it all fell into place. I'd given myself certain objectives. As I've already told you I was scared of frightening you off, but even that worked out amazingly smoothly."

Marc put his arm round Seb and pulled him closer to him. They both took a sip from their G&Ts. Marc thought back to how naïve he had been in those days. Even after three years of boarding school he still hadn't had a physical relationship with anyone and in the lower sixth he slowly realised how experienced Seb was by contrast despite being over two years younger. He had never regretted falling in love and giving himself to Seb. He felt that the experience had only ever enriched his life. In the ensuing silence Marc recalled the week in Maurach and went over it in detail in his mind. For Seb it had hinged on the Sunday night, for Marc, however, on their intimate talk together in the Goldener Apostel, but even he had not realised the extraordinarily willing victim of Seb's charm and scheming he had become. As they sat there together on the sun lounger with their eyes closed Seb's voice spoke as if from another world as he took up the narrative.

"You remember we got there on a Saturday. Well, the first night you're always knackered from the journey, so we went to bed early, slept through till morning and there was no point trying anything on. You see, I remember I had three aims: to see you without any clothes on. Despite my efforts at school, like the late shower, you had never taken the hint. The sauna was the fail-safe method. Secondly I needed to sleep with you in order to reach my third objective to seduce you. One was simple, two was make or break, and fortunately it was make, and three then followed on from there and our heart to heart in the pub.

"The sauna was amazing. Stripped off you were even hunkier than me. How I controlled myself I'll never know to this day. Throughout the previous six months I just had to think of you in a certain way to become aroused. I knew the risk, but it made it even more worthwhile going on to the next stage."
"Then Sunday night you climbed into bed with me. You know, that was the first time I'd ever slept with anyone? It was just nice holding your body. I felt ever so possessive. And as you said on the Monday night when we were having a drink, it was a try-on and I hadn't kicked you out."
"In the morning you kissed me on the forehead and if that wasn't a come-on signal I don't know what is, which meant that Monday night I would get my wicked way."
"And I made it easier by rolling back the duvet and inviting you to climb into my bed. How marvellous hindsight is."
"And I nearly ruined it by drinking too much beer!"

As Marc had got to know Seb better over that year he realised that he took his clothes off at the slightest excuse and would sleep in the buff unless convention demanded otherwise - school fire-drill, company. He now knew that on the Saturday night Seb had given in to wearing shorts and a tee shirt in bed, but after the sauna on the Sunday afternoon they (or perhaps more precisely Marc) realised that they had nothing to hide and plenty to gain if neither of them wore anything in bed for the rest of the week. So on that Sunday evening two naked bodies lay under the duvet. Seb had built into his plan the fact that he would have to take the lead.

Meanwhile the sun had slipped round farther to the west as they dozed on the sun lounger. Seb was stretched out across Marc who was still sitting upright. Neither could be bothered to cook. So Seb brought another long G&T each before they went in, showered and wandered along the lane to the village inn for dinner. Over dinner they continued their conversation about their first experiences together in Maurach. The day was savoured as Marc's time would be taken up over the remaining two days in the final preparations. With Ben as his best man he knew that he was in capable hands.

The wedding day arrived and was a great success, fully supported by Old Bucktonians. In time the first born arrived, identical twin boys. What better opportunity than to invite Mr Bell, who had keenly followed both Marc's and Seb's careers through Cambridge, to be godfather to the one and, however incestuous it might sound, Seb to be godfather to the other.

And so life continued in happiness and good fortune. What had started as a schoolboy friendship between the sons of two sets of parents originally unknown to each other had grown into marriage between their sons and the daughters and a sharing of the grandchildren.

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