An Italian boy in Camford Pt. 09

When St Boniface's college Feast came around, because it was Sunday, Dom and I allowed Jennifer to sit with us at dinner, in the hope that her presence might moderate our drinking. This led to some teasing and ribald guffaws from some of the men on the table. There was always an atmosphere of nostalgia and some sadness on the part of final-year students, conscious that they would shortly be leaving the hedonistic atmophere of Camford, for the real world outside. I was conscious that unless I got a first, I would be looking for a job.

Chapter Sixty-nine: Sandro's final exams

Eventually the exams arrived. Dom had no university exams, but in addition to Sandro's Finals, which ended on the Thursday of the first week of the summer vacation, Jennifer had her first-year exams. She finished on the Tuesday, and the boys turned up at the Examination Schools at the end of her last exam with the traditional bottle of Prosecco and three paper cups. They sat down on the steps of the hall, with several dozen other sub-fusc-clad exam victims, and watched the passing traffic as they drank the fizzy wine before taking Jennifer, still in her sub-fusc but without the gown, to the Sparrowhawk for an early dinner, after which the boys went back to college and Sandro had an early night prior to an exam the next morning. On the Thursday his turn came to be met with Prosecco, but this time there was no dinner, the boys were going to catch a train to Ixfordingworth, where Jon was going to meet them in the car. They were to stay there for two weeks before Sandro was due for a viva voce exam by the External Examiner, a Professor from the University of Sheffield. After that, there would be wait of a day or two before the results were published, and of course Sandro had to stay in Fountain Street until this happened.

The day after they got to Rockwell's Barn was the day of Jon's annual student summer party, at which the boys had been roped in to assist in serving food and drink.

After Luke and Tom had moved to Italy, Jon and David made the decision to 'mothball' the indoor swimming pool at Rockwell's Barn, so Jon's annual pool party for his first-year chemistry students in Boni's had had to be rethought. It re-emerged as an indoor event, with a small number of outdoor activities on the limited space that belonged to the house. But after a couple of years, it became clear that the event was losing its attraction. So in discussion with Bernard Silverdale, the expert manager of the Edmund Heptinstall Educational Trust, and after consulting Tim Ingledown, it was decided that out of the small amount of excess Trust income that was over after appointing scholars, a few thousand should be used to cover the hospitality costs of Jon's annual party, provided that the guest list was enlarged to cover all the Camford first-year Heptinstall Scholars.

By now the number of Scholarships awarded annually had reached twenty-five, of which usually about five or six were awarded to scholars wishing to study at Camford. In return for this gesture, Jon and David decided to reopen the pool. Of course, they benefitted from this on the occasions when they were at home, and Sandro benefitted from access when he was staying at Rockwell's Barn. Jon's other contribution was to provide staff to serve the food and drinks, whom he recruited by seeking volunteers, of which there was no shortage, among the chemistry Ph.D. students (They got free food and drink after the undergraduates had finished eating). Sandro had been a helper in his first two years, and now Dom was recruited as well.

Another change was that both Bernard and Jon made a special point of talking to each of the Heptinstall Scholars and getting to know them as far as was possible in a few minutes conversation. In particular, Bernard and Jon were anxious to find out more about the circumstances of the Scholars' homes, and the efforts they had made to get to university. It was often a very impressive and moving experience to hear of the poverty and hardships, and in some cases mockery and bullying, that they had endured at home and at school.

The new-look first-year parties were a great success, and the total number involved, both chemists and Heptinstall Scholars, rarely exceeded twenty, so retaining the privilege/reward status of the event, and reinforcing the appreciation of the elite status of belonging for life to one of the world's premier universities. The sex/gender balance of the guests changed gradually. In the days when only Boni's chemists were present, it had sometimes been an all-male affair, but as the years went by, the event catered for a steadily increasing number of female students, and now in Sandro's final year, for the first time there were more women than men. Jon had warned him to look out for predatory females. "You're very attractive to women, you know, particularly in that skimpy swim cozzie of yours!" he said. This shift of sex ratio influenced both the food and drink served, with the drink balance shifting from beer to wine. As a chemistry Ph.D., David did his best to be present, and usually came over from Heemstede for the occasion. This year he had given his pupils a week's holiday, and was staying for several days.

As usual, there were enormous quantities of food and drink available, and the fifteen-metre pool was full of splashing and shouting students. The party began at noon and lasted until 11 pm, when a busload of rather inebriated undergraduates was shipped off back to Camford. After unloading the chemists at Boni's, the bus went round to the other colleges, as most of the students involved were not in a state to walk! Dom and Sandro of course, because of their host role, could not get stoned out of their minds, and went to bed relatively sober, snuggling up together under the silk sheets.

Next morning, Jon and David thanked the boys for their work the previous day, and they all joined in the job of clearing up. This fortunately did not involve washing up. The dirty glasses were loaded into cardboard crates, the used paper plates and plastic cutlery put into sacks and at noon the caterer's van arrived to take everything away. Jon, David and Bernard took the boys out to lunch at the Jellycotes Arms, leaving the leftovers to be consumed for supper.

[Readers who are bored with educational fantasizing should skip to the end of this chapter.] Bernard asked Dom if he could help the Heptinstall Trust by suggesting ways of publicizing its grants. The ratio of successful to unsuccessful applications was still too high, thereby reducing competition. He had a strong suspicion that much of the material sent out by the Trust ended in wastepaper bins rather than on school noticeboards. He had the almost paranoid belief that the culture of mediocrity in most secondary schools was sabotaging the help that many students from impoverished backgrounds could obtain if they were prepared to work hard enough. This was based on comments that the scholars had made to him the previous day. They told him that he had asked them questions that no-one had ever bothered to ask them before.

Dom suggested that maybe the Trust could harness British pop groups to publicize the grants, and suggested too that the Trust should be more militant on its Facebook page. Lobbying Parliament and newspaper adverts were a waste of time and money, they all agreed. Dom further suggested that posters on public transport should be investigated, and maybe judicious lobbying of Universities could be used to get them to publicize the grants, and maybe also publicize the Trust among graduates to solicit donations. He also said that in its publicity the Trust should lay more emphasis on the fact that its awards were based on assessment methods that were independent of school curricula and school-based examinations, thereby to some extent sidelining schools and an ideologically motivated education system. He also said that all successful awardees should be offered advice about university choice and choice of study subjects. He asked whether Jon could pull any strings, possibly via Tim Ingledown. He said that above all the spirit of initiative and ambition to achieve needed awakening in sixthformers (or years twelve and thirteen as they were now called), preferably by means from outside the school system. However, he said that as he himself had been educated outside the state system, he was not really qualified to criticize it!

Bernard thanked him for his comments and bought him a pint of beer. He said that he had been given a number of ideas to put to the Trustees. He said that the major point of the awards was to encourage excellence in academic study by making rewards that were mouthwateringly attractive in offering a completely free three or four years at university with the means to travel, to buy clothes, food, books and software, to join paid-for recreational facilities and with a status of nationally recognized excellence as Heptinstall Scholars. He said that in a few months time, an analysis of the finals results and the subsequent careers of all the scholars since the reorganization of the Trust by Jon and Tim would be published and the data would be spectacularly impressive.

Chapter Seventy: Sandro's exam results

The two weeks before my viva were wonderful. The weather was warm, the pool was available whenever we wanted it, we made lots of walks through the beautiful Ixfordshire countryside, and we could make love to our hearts' content whenever we felt like it.

The viva voce exam with the external examiner went smoothly. I answered the relatively easy questions without any hesitation.

Two days later, the results were published, and to my delight, I had got a first. David had gone back to Heemstede by then, so Jon and Don took me to the Venezia for a celebratory dinner with much Italian wine. Next day, I went to see Professor Hinchcliffe, who congratulated me and said that I would receive official notification of his Rail-UK research studentship within a few days and suggested that I go and talk to Dr Ashburton.

After what I had heard, it was with some trepidation that I went to visit Dr Ashburton. I knocked on the door and was asked to enter. I went in. Ashburton was a small, thin man with thick, greying hair. He looked at me intently. "Who are you?" he asked.

"I'm Alessandro Mascagnoli," I replied.

"You don't look like a poofter!" said Dr Ashburton.

"What does a poofter look like?" I asked. "Are you perhaps being unscientific? It sounds as though you are looking for a stereotype."

"They told me that you were gay! You should have a high voice as well as long hair, and walk with a mincing gait. You should be interested in ballet and dancing with men!"

"What is a gait?" I asked, "that's a word I don't know. I don't like dancing, and I sing baritone. I don't use cosmetics or skin conditioning or male body care products, just small amounts of an expensive men's fragrance. I don't want to be an artist or musician or ballet dancer, I want to be a railway engineer.

"I'm not sure why I am telling you all this! It is, after all, none of your business! I want to do research, and I expect to be judged on my academic capabilities and my technological skills, not on my sexual proclivities." (By now my command of English was quite sophisticated, even if I didn't know what the word 'gait' meant.) "My uncle is as queer as a nine-pound note, yet he's a tutor and honorary Fellow of my college. No-one talks to him as you have just spoken to me. Twenty years ago he got into trouble because he started a relationship with my other uncle Dr Singleton-Scarborough, who was an undergraduate in his department, and he was suspended from teaching for four years, but he got a brilliant Ph.D. Nowadays he is a highly capable and respected academic. I realize that if I want this studentship, you and I have to work together, so please put your personal prejudices aside and judge me on my abilities as an engineer. If after two weeks we do not hit off, I will renounce the award and go and look for a job where I am judged as an engineer and not as a 'poofter' as you put it!"

I was beginning to get hot under the collar. If most of what this man had said had been spoken in the presence of witnesses, I could have taken him to court, and I suspect that I would have had the support of the head of department. However, this was an opportunity to show up Ashburton's views as sheer prejudice, and show him that gays are normal people. I was not, after all, going to turn up in the lab in skintight pink jeans and call everyone 'Darling'! That would not have been a sackable offence, but it would have upset a lot of people.

Ashburton's face, that had initially been red with emotion, had returned to its normal colour and he suddenly smiled. "I don't want to start off on the wrong footing with you, Alessandro," he said.

"Please call me Sandro," I said. We arranged that I would start in the lab on October 1, and I left with a heap of reprints and a long list of web sites. I also still had some feelings of trepidation, but was pleased that we understood one another. Ashburton was not a product of my grandfather's age group. If he had never met any gays in his professional capacity, now was the time to begin. I could not really take his initial emotional and prejudiced outburst seriously. I wondered if it was some kind of ploy. However, the material that he gave me to read was really exciting, and it was a project that looked fascinating.

Chapter Seventy-one: A foursome in Northumberland

Liz Appleton's wedding was fixed for early in September. Luke negotiated three weeks holiday, provided that the first two weeks were in August when the opera house was closed. Tom had no problems in securing a three-week break. They decided to have two weeks exploring the city of Newcastle and the Northumberland countryside before the wedding. Tom had insisted that Sandro and Dom should be invited to the wedding as his brother-in-law and his partner-to-be. "Let's invite them to join us on the tour," he said. "We can make reservations in a few key hotels, and maybe camp out for a couple of nights. It will be Sandro's last chance for a long break before starting his Ph.D."

"We must go to Holy Island and the Roman Wall," said Luke. "You and I need a day of quiet and prayer on Holy Island. My brother and Dom can walk or bathe or visit the castle. I don't think there will be time to walk the whole length of the Wall, as we need to do some walking further North, maybe along the Saint Cuthbert Way. We could join that long-distance path at Wooler, and walk from there to Holy Island. We must ask Dom if we can tell my sister his identity."

So it was arranged that Sandro would fly from Italy to Leeds/Bradford Airport and make his own way to Getheringthwaite Hall, where he would meet Dom, and spend a few days with Lord Wakefield and Robert.

They then went on to Newcastle-on-Tyne by train, where they met Luke and Tom. The four met in a comfortable hotel in the Tyneside city and spent three days seeing the major sights, including a trip on the Newcastle Metro. They then set out walking along Hadrian's Wall. They started at the old Roman fort of Segedunum and continued westward along the long distance trail to Housesteads Roman fort, then striking northward to Kielder Water. They then got a bus to Wooler and took two days to walk the 30 km to Holy Island. When they reached Saint Cuthbert's cave near the village of North Hazelrigg, they stopped to eat a picnic lunch in the cave, which is really a gigantic overhanging rock in the middle of a wood. As Tom and Luke cuddled up together after they had finished eating, Tom said to his partner, "Do you remember the overhanging rock at Llanmerthyr Fach, where we had our first open-air sex, and I asked you to become my life-partner?"

"How could I ever forget? It was a major turning point in our lives together. You are and always will be the light of life, my darling Tom."

When Sandro saw his brother and Tom snogging together, he put his arm round Dom and said, "Dom, my sweet boy, I hope that you and I will be as happy as those two!"

Dom grinned and said, "I wish my grandfather could see them!"

Sandro replied, "I'm not going to take my B.A. this year. I'm going to wait until next summer and we can take our degrees together. I'm sorry not to be sharing a room with you next year, but it's really impracticable to be pushed out of college at the end of every term when I have to work for 46 weeks per academic year."

"Sandro, Sandro, don't you know? I've told the college that I'll be living out next year, and I've negotiated with Jon the rent I'll be paying to live with you in Fountain Street. We'll not just be sharing a room, we'll be sharing a bed!" Sandro embraced Dom with surprise and delight.

In the pilgrim tradition, the four crossed the sands to Holy Island barefoot, their footwear in their back-packs. They stayed in one of the more comfortable island pubs for three days, walking, visiting the Priory and Castle and drinking in the bar after dinner. Tom and Luke spent a day in prayer and meditation in and around the Parish Church of Saint Mary, reading about the lives of Aidan and Cuthbert, the two saints who gave the island its fourteen-hundred-year-old reputation for holiness. At the end of their stay, they all took a bus to Alnmouth, the nearest station, and returned by train to Newcastle in time for Liz's wedding.

Chapter Seventy-two: Liz Appleton's wedding

It was with some trepidation that Aidan Satterthwaite met his future brother-in-law and the latter's partner for the first time. Aidan had had an unsophisticated northern upbringing, and even in his three years in Camford he had not met many openly gay men. It was a relief to him that Tom and Luke turned out to be perfectly ordinary northcountrymen, whose only sign of gayness was the affectionate looks they gave one another and the way that they occasionally touched one another on shoulder or arse. Neither of them was a poncy southerner, although Tom's slight Durham accent was only noticeable by those who recognized it.

They first met three days before the wedding, which allowed the three of them to have a "boys-only" night out with a meal and a few pints of beer. Tom and Luke were both very impressed with Liz's choice of man, and took the opportunity to congratulate Aidan on his choice. Aidan blushed with pleasure. He realized that the brother of a girl like Liz would not be stupid or bad-mannered. He also realized that his fears that the night might end up as an orgy of drinking were totally unfounded, and they ended the evening in cosy, slightly alcoholic cameraderie, looking forward to enjoyable future evenings with Liz. The two boys also congratulated Aidan on his choice of a church wedding. "A promise made before God is much more solemn than a promise made before human witnesses!" said Tom. "That's why Luke and I had our partnership blessed by a priest, even though we couldn't use a church or have a public service. God your Father who sees what is done in secret will reward you," he quoted from the gospel.

Next morning, Aidan said to Liz, "Your brother and his partner are great guys, even though they are religious! I'm looking forward to seeing more of them after we're married."

Liz replied, "I knew you would like my darling Tom, and Luke is a sweet guy. I can foresee some wonderful evenings with the four of us together in the future. I know Tom doesn't want to spend the rest of his life in Italy. Sooner or later the two of them will end up in Camford!"

That evening they went round to the hotel where Aidan's parents, brother and sister were staying, to introduce Tom and Luke. It was important to meet them as Aidan's brother was best man, and Tom was to give Liz away. Liz had decided against any bridesmaids and was not going to wear a wedding dress, but a light brown business jacket with matching skirt. Aidan's family were friendly professional people. His father was a solicitor, as was his brother. They had acted for the couple in making their wills. Like Tom before her, Liz was anxious that none of her money should go to her father or sisters, so the couple had both made wills in anticipation of marriage.