Chapter 12

And yes, even with Tracey distracting me (and me her – I might be banned from the house, but she and I needed the occasional release and found this was an acceptable and controllable way of focussing on the work), I got the grades. It all seems so pointless now – three exams to decide your life for you. Durham here I come! Toni and Fiona rang me on the same morning, they were on their way to Durham too! I suppose we never parted after that.

I claimed the set when Erica came up for one of her half-terms. You might expect Fiona to be protective, or them both to be jealous; but, and call me mister bighead if you like, they both reckoned I was the best guy they knew to take Erica’s maidenhood (as Toni demurely put it). They decorated Fiona’s room with candles (strictly not allowed by college rules), and silk scarves; took the two of us for dinner and then left us at Fee’s door (I was finally allowed that diminutive). Erica was not nervous in the least. She wore me out with her demands for oral, anal, vaginal; missionary, cowboy, 69. We didn’t surface for 24 hours. Fiona had to make up a story on the phone that Erica had eaten something that disagreed with her and couldn’t come to the phone. Again, nearly true, she didn’t like the taste of spunk and was sick. But, overall, when we surfaced, she was very happy. So was I. I had a lover who set me up for a lengthy session with her younger sister!

I got a First! I know! Me! I was more surprised than anybody – Tracey sent me a bunch of flowers to congratulate me. Since I was sharing a house with Fiona and Toni by then, Mum was confused and tried to ‘explain’ to them that Tracey and I were friends and ... I let her flounder, I’m afraid. She didn’t understand my relationship with these two either.

Fiona also got a first, Toni got a 2:1. Both their degrees were about right, mine was a fluke (I put it down to my exam answer that suggested Shakespeare wasn’t the world’s best playwright – some professors like a bit of iconoclasm).

When Gramps died, we all thought granny would, or even should, sell up and move somewhere else. Somewhere with a bus service at least. But she didn’t. She said Johnny (son of Johnny; actually the spitting image of him) would hate it in a town. Old Johnny was on his last legs too, he would be happy anywhere with a warm fire. She had friends who kept an eye on her; and the girls visited regularly, and their parents less often.

Fiona, Toni and I turned up one weekend to Llangruntyg (“Come, she’d love to see you again, she always asks about you”) and she hugged each of us and then said “Now, I have no idea which or how many beds to make up. So you three can sort yourselves out. What? You think I’m old and blind and stupid? I’m glad Gramps never realised, David. He wasn’t as modern in his thinking as me”

“You don’t mind?”

“Gramps wasn’t the only man I had in my bed you know” stunned silence “Only I did it serially rather than in parallel.

He was the only one for me after we met.

Do I mind? As long as the two girls can share you, why should I mind?”

We made up two single beds in one of the guest rooms and pushed them together. Later, when I got out to go to the bathroom, I realised my mistake in thinking I could rush there and back as I was. As I returned, an old voice behind me said “bet that’s tight and tasty.” I hope she was referring to my tight, well-toned bottom rather than my equipment!

Probably staying in the house did shorten her life, but she liked her life there and maybe that’s better than draining away in a home. She was found by a neighbour, she’d been dead a couple of days. Poor Johnny (old and young), they had stayed with her for those two days. The three of us adopted the two dogs, though old Johnny died very soon after; he was very old for a dog.

The house was left to the four girls. I think their parents were surprised (I know Derek and Angie – Fiona’s mum and dad – were, I think they’d already allocated their cut of the money to a new campervan), the girls agreed to keep it as a holiday home and rent it out to pay the costs. Granny left me the Wolseley. It had been in the garage a while, but I worked day and night (literally) to get it working so it was the funeral car for the four girls. I could barely drive it for tears.