Chapter 15

Once we'd drunk our tea, and Vee and Sian had put away all the clean laundry in the correct places, we headed off to the National Museum of Wales for our promised fix of culture.

Julie and I had been round some of the gallery on one of our days out, but we were again impressed by just how much top quality art was on show.

Sheila turned out to be a huge fan of the French Impressionists; she couldn't believe the incredible collection that the two Davies sisters, Gwendoline and Margaret, had built up in the 1920's, and bequeathed to the nation after their deaths.

"This has got to be the best collection of Impressionist work in the country! I've never seen so many great paintings in one place."

After a lot of effort in getting her to move on, we also looked at the archaological and natural history collections, which Julie and I hadn't seen on our previous visits.

There was a small tea-room in the Museum, and we all had a cup of tea and a sandwich; the prices were reasonable, and we felt we ought to support the Museum for giving us such an amazing morning. I say morning; it was a quarter to two when we got into the tea-room, and we were lucky there was anything left to eat so late in the lunch period!

We then went into the shop; we all bought postcards of our favourite paintings to send home, and Sheila bought herself a poster for her room at Uni.

"Adrian will probably have that dreadful poster of the girl scratching her bottom while playing tennis, so I'm going to set a much more civilised tone in my room!"

"Oh no, darling, I'm thinking of that big one of Bridget Bardot!"

"Exactly my point! You young men only think of one thing!"

"My mate Malcolm has got a set of those 'Guinness is Good For You' posters up in his room, you know, the cartoon ones with the toucan."

"Okay, you young men only think about two things!"

"Three! What's for supper?"

Sheila glared at me.

We came back home from the Art Gallery via the impressive Cardiff Central Market, which is housed in a wonderful purpose-built Victorian structure off St. Mary Street.

I showed Adrian a few of the upstairs market stalls including the excellent second-hand record stall, while the girls did some much-needed food shopping on the ground floor.

We also stopped in at the Asian supermarket on the way back; Sheila gleefully picked up a stack of unwrapped imported sun-dried poppadoms, which were tied up with string and with a label in Urdu. They were clearly hand made and extremely authentic, if not especially clean.

"Dad was in India just after the War, and he always complains that Mum can't get the real thing when she cooks him a curry! If we take him these as a present, he won't get so jealous when we describe going to the curry house."

"Mum may just throw them straight in the bin as unhygienic!"

"They will be fine once we've deepfried them, that will kill off any bugs! I just won't explain exactly where they came from. What she doesn't know won't hurt her!"

"Then there's an awful lot that we don't want her to know!"

For tea, Sheila cooked us an amazing pasta dish in the biggest saucepan we had - she started with chopped streaky bacon fried until it was crispy with a bit of onion and garlic, then she fried sliced courgettes in butter with a few dried mixed herbs, added a good helping of freshly cooked penne pasta (the hollow tube type), mixed in the bacon, and stirred in half a pint of cream to give it a sauce. It was utterly delicious, and we all told her so!

"Our Domestic Science teacher at school is married to an Italian, and she's shown us lots of pasta dishes; the problem usually is getting the authentic ingredients outside London. She says you can tell the places with an Italian community, because the shops stock more than one variety of pasta! If you really want to experience regional Italian cooking, apparently Bedford is the place to go, because so many Italians came over after the war to find jobs in the London Brick works there."

After we had all helped wash up, we tidied ourselves up and headed for the jazz club. Julie and I knew from experience that it would be open on a Monday night but not especially busy, and we were able to find a good table with a great view of the band.

Adrian and I danced with all the girls and were on the dance floor most of the evening; Sheila was the lightest on her feet, but we all had a lot of fun, and Julie and I especially enjoyed a slow dance to 'Stranger on the Shore' at the end.

When the barman called 'Last Orders Please', we were all only part way down our second pint; we had been chatting and dancing so much that they hadn't made very much money at all on our drinks. Perhaps that was why there was an admission charge!

Once again, I felt that we had given the twins an experience of a freedom they hadn't been given at home, and I was delighted that we were broadening their horizons in all sorts of ways.

We got back to the house very late from the jazz club, having stopped off on the way in Caroline Street for a doner kebab, as the twins had never tried one.

"This might be another dodgy activity that you can confess to when you get home; unless you go down with food poisoning, of course, in which case we expect you to blame a British Rail pasty!"

Julie asked the man if she could try the hot sauce, and he gave her a smear on a piece of pita bread. She licked it, and immediately went into a coughing fit. Smiling, he passed her a paper cup of water over the counter.

"Is an acquired taste, as they say. Special hot and not for every body."

I paid him, and thanked him again for Julie's water.

"Is pretty girl, pleasure to see again. And ten, twenty, thirty pence change. Thank you all and good night!"

The girls were again impressed by the quality of the salad and the size of the portion. It was clearly a pleasant change for the man to have customers who were sober and polite, and we were definitely getting favoured treatment.

The police van turned past us as we left Caroline Street; the driver and passenger taking a good look at the group of six of us. Adrian commented on it.

"Not like at home!"

"This is where all the drunks come for a kebab when they are chucked out of the pubs, but as it's Monday night there aren't very many about. I wouldn't come down here on a Friday or Saturday night, nor on a Wednesday when there's football on at Ninian Park - too much chance of getting into a fight!"

We passed a couple of men pissing in a doorway, and another throwing up against a telephone box. We hurried past, and slowed down to eat our doners when we entered the more open and better-lighted area of The Hayes.

We found a rubbish bin to put our paper wrappers in; since the IRA had taken to hiding their bombs in bins, many had been removed, and there was noticeably more litter about on the street.

We got back to the house, and before unlocking the front door, Vee quickly reminded us that their housemates were probably in bed. We all walked gently up the stairs to the top floor.

Bryony and Rebecca were clearly in their bedrooms if not actually asleep, so we quietly made a cup of tea and drank it in the kitchen with the door closed.

"Sian, Sheila and I will come into your room, and Vee and Adrian will go in with Julie. Once we've shagged both girls, Adrian and I will swap over. We'll bring the tea into your room in the morning, and we expect to see that you've made great use of his morning wood!"

After a prolonged (but almost silent) session of everybody kissing everyone else good night, we went to our separate bathrooms and then bedrooms.

"Sheila, what would you like to do for our final session?"

"Can I lie on your chest and ride you really slowly? We haven't done that yet, and it looked like good fun. I also want to talk to you two."

"Okay, sorry about the lack of romance, but do you want foreplay or KY?"

"KY please, then I can get Gustav in me as soon as possible!"

We stripped off quickly, Sheila lubed up Gustav, and I laid down on my back to let her climb aboard. She straddled my chest, and moved herself down until she was impaled. She sighed in contentment.

"I just really enjoy the feeling of fullness. Jon, don't you move, I'll do all the work at my own pace. I want to do it nice and slowly, so that I don't forget what I want to say to you. Oh god, that is SUCH a good feeling having you inside me!"