David's Final Graduate Year Ch. 02

The following week, Marcello rang me on my cellphone in the lab to tell me that I had passed and could I call in and see him on the way home from the lab. At 5-30, I left the lab on my bike and got to Marcello's 20 minutes later to find Jon there! Marcello poured out a glass of Prosecco for me, and one each for himself, Caterina and Jon. "They told me over the phone that you had done very well. The competition is in early July as you know, and it would be a good idea to make a hotel booking now. You don't want to end up staying in Newtown or Brecon, but Llandrindod Wells would be OK. There are not a lot of hotels in the area."

"I'll do some research," said Jon. "We don't want to end up in a tent, and even the youth hostels will be busy in July."

"David, you'll need to prepare something new for the competition," said Marcello. "Again there will be two test pieces, and I think that one ought to be a Schubert song. As far as accompanist is concerned, I've heard that they have good accompanists, so you won't need to ask Brian Shaw."

"It will be interesting to see how he performs when we go to Cirencester early in June," I said.

"Would you and Marcello like to come out to dinner?" Jon asked Caterina in Italian.

"That would be nice!" she replied. "I was going to cook some pasta, but I can do that tomorrow."

Jon and I left our bikes at Marcello's and we took a cab into town to the Italian restaurant where I had taken Jon for his birthday in my third year as an undergraduate, an occasion of which I have very tender memories. We all tried to speak entirely in Italian during an excellent meal and got through two bottles of wine, followed by as much espresso coffee as we could drink. The quality of my Italian nosedived during the meal, but improved again during the coffee! Jon insisted on paying the bill, and we all went home very happy. When the cab dropped Marcello and Caterina off at home, I got out and kissed them both goodnight. I think Marcello was touched by my 'Italian' demonstrativeness, which stemmed of course from deep gratitude. After all, he was acting as unpaid agent for me, so his lessons were not as expensive as they had first seemed.

Chapter 56 Jon

A surprise present

By June, David had begun to wind down his work in the lab. He was doing a few concluding experiments prior to writing a final paper, which would represent the end of his work. When that was done, he could begin to think about starting writing his thesis.

My researches had found a pub in a small village about ten miles from Llandewi Mawr, which did dinner, bed and breakfast. Although it was not particularly cheap, it sounded very comfortable and as it was clear from the map that the surroundings were beautiful, I booked a double room for the five nights covering the competition.

The Pentecost term was drawing to an end and our last Sunday evening dining in Hall arrived. It was a nostalgic occasion: after seven years 'in statu pupilari' David would never eat with the students again. The men and women in the choir organized a small gathering for him in the college function room after dinner, and Edward, myself of course, Dr Dan C, David's old chemistry tutor and Professor Smith were all present. Coffee and wine were served, the Organ Scholar and Bible Clerk both made jokey speeches about David being the oldest student in college as well as the longest serving ever member of the choir. At 9 pm we got a shock. The door opened and the President came in!

Dame Elizabeth Howarth had been President of St Boniface's for eight years and was greatly liked as well as highly respected in both public and academic life. She had been created DBE a couple of years before. I had talked to her a couple of times on high table, but David had only met her on the few occasions when she entertained students in the President's Lodgings. Edward offered her a glass of wine, which she supped eagerly, and he brought her across to David, with whom she shook hands with a motherly smile. "You may not be aware of it, but I have followed your career in Camford with great interest ever since you came here," she said to him. "Now that it is nearly at an end, I hope that you continue to enjoy success and to give as much pleasure as you have given all of us here by your singing over the last seven years."

She then cleared her throat and the Organ Scholar gestured for silence. "David here," she said, "has sung in the Chapel Choir for a record continuous seven years. During that time he has made himself widely liked by his friendly and generous nature, and distinguished himself academically as a Scholar of the college. Moreover by being open about his homosexuality and his relationship with Jonathan here, he has made a major contribution to belated and long overdue public acknowledgement of how great a contribution gays have made to university life over the last eight hundred years." David blushed bright red and rubbed his arm over his face. "Accordingly," Dame Elizabeth continued, "the choir and the whole college would like you to accept this small token of our friendship and appreciation." The Organ Scholar handed her a box, which she gave to David, shook his hand and to my amazement kissed him on the cheek.

David's face was a picture of total confusion, as well as still being bright red. There were cries of "Open it, open it!" He opened the box and withdrew a pewter pint tankard with an inscription. "Read it, read it!" went the cries, so he read it aloud: 'To David Scarborough from Saint Boniface's College Chapel Choir to commemorate seven years of singing and drinking. June 19--.' It was clear to me that David was struggling to avoid bursting into tears, and I went across to him and took his hand. "Say something!" I whispered.

"Madam President, ladies and gentlemen," he stammered, "it is so kind of you all to remember me in this way. My seven years at Boni's have been the most enjoyable of my whole life. In spite of only sleeping here for perhaps one third of the last seven years, I have come to think of this college as my home. I will never forget the warmth, intellectual challenge and sense of belonging which St Boniface's has given me, not to mention of course meeting this guy, who is now a permanent part of my life!" and he gestured in my direction. "Thank you all very much. We have no plans to leave Camford at present, so I'm sure that I shall see you all again after the summer vac."

The President smiled and told us to carry on drinking, and quietly left. I went up to Edward and said "Did you write her script for her?"

"No," he replied, "she wrote it herself. She obviously understands about homosexuality, because she has a gay son, and it's clear that she loves him. It's also clear that there is a big domestic difference of opinion about gays in the Lodgings! What she has just said amounts to a public recognition of homosexuality in the college. No more 'don't ask, don't tell.' The story will be all round Boni's in the next couple of days. In that respect, and thanks to her, Boni's has advanced beyond Buckingham."

Buckingham College, founded by King James's boyfriend/catamite George Villiers, has always had the reputation of being gay-friendly, certainly in the eighteenth century when scurrilous stories were in circulation about the fellows of Buckingham and their relations with the students, many of who were still young teenagers.

"So if you are after a fellowship, you won't find the President an obstacle to your ambitions," said Edward.

"I was amazed when she kissed him," I said.

"You're just jealous that someone has touched your boy!" he replied with a grin. "You're not the only one to appreciate his beauty, you know!"

"Hands off him!" I joked, "I turn nasty if anyone tries to take what's mine!"

"That's because you think that he might say yes to someone else. Don't you realize the significance of the promises that you both made six months ago? David would never turn away from you, even if he were led astray by someone else. You are too insecure, Jon! As a matter of fact, in weak moments, I do find myself fancying him. I wouldn't say this to anyone except the two of you, but you know what it's like being a man. You cannot, unless you are blind or hormonally deficient, stop appreciating a nice figure or backside in a man or woman. At least in the C of E, I as a cleric can look appraisingly at a woman (or man) without feeling guilty."

"Some people would say that you should as a cleric, not be looking in that way at a man. You are fucking him in your heart!"

"Yes indeed, but that's my problem, not yours. You are obviously not bi. And I trust you and David not to talk about me to anyone else."

"Of course we won't." I replied.

Chapter 57 David

The Welsh singing competition

Early in July we drove to mid-Wales for the Llandewi Mawr International Singing Competition. It was a hot sunny afternoon as we drove from Leominster along the A44 across the Welsh border, and within three quarters of an hour we reached the village of Llanmerthyr Fach. It consisted of perhaps twenty houses, a post office and the pub, the Fiddler's Arms where we were staying. A small stream flowed through the village alongside the main street, and after we had unpacked the car, we went and sat on a seat beside the stream and soaked up the sunshine. Across the stream was a footbridge leading to a path going up the hillside into a wood.

I had a photocopy of my two competition numbers in my pocket. "Let's go up the hill into the wood," I said, "and if we find a quiet spot, I will just run through these two items once or twice each. Then tomorrow I don't need to queue to book a practice room." We climbed up the hill and found ourselves in pretty thick woodland consisting mainly of ash trees. We found an open spot, where I sat down on a fallen tree and got out the music. I stood up and sang the Schubert, which required elegance and sensitivity rather than vocal power. Then I began my second piece, which was not new to my repertoire, 'Wenn der Freude Tränen fließen' from 'Die Entfürung aus den Serail' by Mozart. I just had to repeat a couple of lines to make sure that I was following the markings properly, and then I said, "Right, that's that until I sing tomorrow afternoon."

We ate about 6-30 pm and after a couple of beers adjourned to our room about 10 for a shag before going to sleep in our separate single beds. I was not feeling energetic and was content to lie back and let Jon have his way with me. He was quiet and gentle as he entered my anus and fucked me gently for nearly ten minutes before he came. He then caressed my dick and gently stroked my belly before rubbing his belly against mine. That got me really excited and in no time at all I shot my load onto our two bellies.

We had set the alarm for 6 am with breakfast at 7, to allow us to be in Llandewi Mawr before 8-15 am. That enabled us to explore the town thoroughly before the competition started at 9-30 am. We located the main pubs and cafés, so that we knew where to head during the interval. Both Mike and Nat had qualified for the first round, so we knew that we would meet them. The first day was tenor voices, with the three best going forward to the final on the morning of day 4. Mike performed among the morning entrants. I came on about 3 pm as the last tenor entrant. I performed both pieces reasonably faultlessly, and got loud applause for the not very well known Mozart aria, which is one of the most beautiful melodies ever written. The judges then adjourned, and promised to deliver their verdict at about 5 pm.

We all went out into the town. We did not feel that we could drink alcohol at that stage, and sat in one of the cafés drinking tea, and eating toasted teacakes. I held Jon's hand tightly when I was not eating, and Mike and Nat were also holding hands. We didn't give a fuck if anyone noticed us. At 5 pm we returned to the hall and sat to await the verdict. Fifteen tenors had performed that day from the US, Italy, Spain, Scotland, the Netherlands, the USSR (as it then was), Wales and West Germany (as it then was) as well as England. As usual the three winners were announced in reverse order. To my great pleasure, Mike who had been unplaced the year before in Dunchester was third. An American tenor of great expressiveness was second. My heart beat with apprehension when the envelope with the top name was opened. I was all ready to say to Jon, "Let's go home first thing tomorrow," when the name David Scarborough was read out! I nearly fainted with joy and surprise before rising to stagger up to the platform to collect my award, which was a cheque for £500, and a week's master-classes in Vienna. I then took the microphone to thank the organizers on behalf of the competitors in the tenor class.

We then all adjourned to the nearest pub, pursued by three impresarios and a couple of would-be agents. I told the agents that I did not need their services, as Marcello would handle my bookings. I listened to each of the impresarios, collected their cards and told them that if they had not heard from Dr Fabioni within a week to contact him, and gave them each his card, a supply of which he had pressed on me before we left Camford. Then, before we got too drunk, I rang Marcello from a public telephone in the pub, as the mobile phone signals were very poor in rural Wales, and told him of my initial success. He asked what numbers I would sing in the final of the competition, and told him that I would sing 'Waft her, angels to the skies' that had not been used at the audition and Calaf's aria 'Nessun dorma' from Puccini's 'Turandot.' This of course was some years before it became the anthem of the FIFA World Cup in Italy in 1990. It had been one of the main numbers Marcello had taught me during my Italian Opera course, but I had never sung it in public before. He told me that if he could get there by train, he would come on the night before the final.

The next day we had a break, as it was the turn of the basses. We attended the morning session, but then took the afternoon off. I booked a practice room for the next afternoon, to polish the two songs for the final. We then walked round the town and found a secondhand music shop. I had a good look round and picked up piano accompaniments for several operatic arias, which had obviously been sold on by competitors in earlier competitions, which might prove useful later on. We had arranged to eat that night with Mike and Nat in Llandewi Mawr, rather than return to our hotel. That meant that I should take my turn to drink fruit juice and drive back to Llanmerthyr Fach, so that Jon could drink a bit more than he usually did.

By arriving early before the competition session had closed, we got a table in an amazing restaurant with unbelievably delicious food. It turned out that the chef had done his training in Ludlow, the gastronomic capital of provincial England, which was only about 70 km away. We got through two bottles of wine before we, having finished eating, were pushed out because our table was required. The four of us then had a minor pub-crawl through three of the more attractive pubs in the town, with me still drinking fruit juice, before I drove Jon back to our hotel. Needless to say, we were not really in the mood to do anything but sleep that night!

Day 3 of the competition saw Nat up against about a dozen other baritones. To our delight, he came second, so that all three of us were now in the final. In the afternoon, I spent half-an-hour in a practice room and polished my two offerings for the final. About 4 pm, Marcello arrived by taxi from Leominster just in time to hear my final run-through. He dined with the four of us in an Italian restaurant in Llandewi that evening and Mike and Nat were both charmed by him. He had managed to get an hotel room because several unsuccessful competitors had already left.

Chapter 58 Jon

The competition final

Next day the finals began at 9-30. There were of course nine finalists, of whom David and the Stamford boys comprised three. All the finalists were segregated backstage from the audience, so they could not see and scarcely hear what was going on in the hall. The remainder were all from other lands, so together the three of them represented England, and there was also a Scottish baritone. This time there was a draw for the order of singing, and Nat came first. They each had to sing both their two chosen numbers.

When Nat sang, I noticed that Marcello was nodding in approval, and with later finalists he sometimes nodded and sometimes shook his head. David's turn came at noon, just before the lunch break. He began with 'Waft her angels,' and though the words are dreadful eighteenth-century hyperbole, the beauty of David's singing made them sound so beautiful that tears began to run down my face and even Marcello looked moved. 'Nessun dorma' was even more impressive and Marcello grinned with delight and nudged me, whispering "That's a winning performance if ever I heard one." We had to wait till the afternoon to hear Mike's performance, at which Marcello remained inscrutable.

The jury, which partially differed in composition from the jury in the tenor class, went out at 4 pm and it was nearly 6 pm before they reconvened the audience. The tension was high. David, who had now joined us in the audience, was visibly pale and apprehensive, much more than I had ever seen him before. The international jury comprised four men and two women, all world famed in their respective fields of artist, conductor, teacher or critic. The results were announced. Neither Mike nor Nat had managed a place. Third place went to an American bass, second place to a German baritone. David looked on the verge of collapse, and I grasped his hand and squeezed it. I held on to it as the chairman announced the first prizewinner as: David Scarborough of Camford, England. At once I kissed him and released my grasp so that he could embrace Marcello, before stumbling up on to the platform to receive his award of a cheque for £5K and a recital tour of Wales, England, Germany and Italy, one concert in each country, with an internationally famous accompanist, Thomas Atkin. As winner, David again had the role of thanking the organizers and sponsors on behalf of the competitors and he apologized for not being able to do so in Welsh. He looked exhausted.

We all went to the pub, including Mike and Nat and Marcello was kept busy negotiating with four impresarios. He had come with draft contracts and was busy trying to get them to sign up to a fixed number of engagements from October of the following year onward. He did successful deals with two of them, so David's future looked fairly good, and he would certainly have some work to look forward to after giving up his day job at the end of September when his studentship expired.

Chapter 59 David

A startling piece of news

By the time that we got back from Llandewi Mawr, I had finished most of my work in the lab and was staying at home in the flat putting materials together for my thesis. I was trying to unwind from the stress of too many commitments at the same time. Not even being given a good fucking by Jon could relax me. One afternoon I was sitting in the sun on our balcony, scribbling notes on the Methods section of my thesis, when the phone rang. It was my mother. It was very unusual for her to ring during he day and I wondered why.

It turned out that Dorothea was pregnant. She had not been on the pill because she was not in a relationship and was not in the habit of having sex. The father of her child was an Italian boy who had no intention of acknowledging paternity and no intention of marrying her. Apparently she was quite happy about this, because she had no desire to marry and he had taken advantage of her in a weak moment (and with perhaps a weak condom!). Even so, she had no intention of getting the child aborted and indeed had been pregnant during her final exams at Oxbridge, and her condition had not prevented her getting a first.