Not just another Summer - 39. Violin sonatas & sex tips

Sunday morning, Matt was sitting up in bed, the t-shirt he had worn to sleep in had come off leaving his naked chest exposed. I was standing in the doorway, drying myself off after a shower.

“What will Peter be wearing at breakfast?”

“Perhaps his usual”, I smiled, “though he may be a bit more circumspect as we have a visitor. Why?”

Matt flushed, “Just a bit curious. Nosey, like.”

“We can wear what we did last night, that OK for you?”

“If you think…” He started to get out of bed, and grinned up at me. “Right nosey, so yeah. Don’t want to miss this.”

As he pulled his cotton pants on, he smiled at me again. “I reckon if I am going to be asked back, I’ll need to get some that fit.”

He sat back down on the bed and as I stood between his legs, I had the novelty of leaning down to kiss him. “You’ll be asked back, if you enjoyed it.”

“Bit out of me comfort zone as they say”, then he chuckled. “But I reckon it was worth it.” His hands reached up for my chest then slipped onto my bum. I dropped the towel.

We were late for breakfast. I was learning that sex with Matt was a sometime thing, it happened at unexpected moments.

Vince looked up at me as we walked into the main house, I rolled my eyes, and he smirked. Matt was missing nothing, and Peter was in black boxer briefs (right, so he must have a drawer full) and Vince was in t-shirt (oversize) and briefs, thank the Lord. I am not sure whether Matt was up for my brother’s dick at breakfast.

“Sleep well, Matt?” Vince’s eyes sparkled but he gave no other hint of suggestiveness.

And Matt, thankfully, took him entirely seriously. “Thank you, yes. Amazingly, the bed was long enough.” Matt looked down at his feet. “The hazard of being so tall.”

Peter handed us coffees, “What do you do otherwise?”

Matt shrugged, “If it’s a double, sleep diagonal otherwise let my feet dangle off the end.”

“Not pleasant.”

“You get used to it, but it’s nicer being able to lie full length.

“Gray didn’t keep you awake, then?”

Matt flushed, but he did answer. “No. I…” He came to a halt. “It was great.”

I think that Peter and Vince were aware they’d perhaps taken things far enough, Peter started sorting out breakfast whilst Vince and I discussed details for the afternoon. Underneath, however, I was kicking myself. I’d not thought things through. Matt had stayed over, for the first time, and here I was plonking him in the middle of a family inquisition with both Vince and Peter making double entendres left, right and centre.

Matt recovered, however, because with a smile he announced, “You lot aren’t anything like what I expected.”

Vince looked intrigued, “What did you expect?”

“Well, this big place. I figured things’d be more formal. Even after I met Gray.”

“Meeting my younger brother would surely be enough to disabuse anyone of the notion that our family was formal.”

“It does rather raise preconceptions, this place, doesn’t it?” Peter smiled at Matt, “I thought similar till this one started reminiscing about living here.”

Vince gave a wry smile, “Sometimes it feels like we’re just camping out in the place now.”

Matt looked round, “You could rent out rooms.” He was totally serious. “It would make a great hotel.”

Vince gave a rumbling chuckle, “I can’t really see either Gray or I dealing with visitors on a regular basis, can you?”

I nodded towards Vince, “He’d disappear into his office, and I’d get grumpy and be rude to people.”

Matt stared at me, curious, “You’re never grumpy.”

Vince smiled, “Don’t you believe it. Put him in a room full of people and expect him to be nice to everyone.”

Peter looked from Vince to me, “The prickly poet?”

“Perhaps you should rename the title of his talk. An Evening with the Prickly Poet.”

“Excuse me, how about talking to me, not about me!”

Vince burst out laughing and looked at Matt, “There you are, see!”

Matt, however, still looked serious. “Was your Dad like that, then?”

Vince’s brow wrinkled in thought, “I don’t think so, but then he only ever socialised for a purpose, his purpose, not for fun.”

“What about your Mum?”

I caught Vince’s eye, “Well?”

He shrugged, “She did join Dad, but I sometimes think she’d have been happier not to have done.”

“Hiding in the kitchen.” I smiled at the memory.

Peter and Vince hustled us out of breakfast, I was pretty sure the two had plans that involved doing more than just getting clean in Vince’s shower. Mine was a lot smaller than Vince’s, so after a bit of cuddle which developed into more, reaching a messy climax that had Matt laughing, saying it was a good job he’d not showered yet, we cleaned ourselves up separately. As I was in the shower and Matt was drying, he kept up a monologue.

“I can’t imagine doing that, entertaining people in my underwear. It’s not that I think it’s wrong or anything”, he added hurriedly.

“Some people would.”

“Is that why your brother does it? Enjoying things your parents wouldn’t approve of? You know, entertaining his boyfriend, his brother, his brother’s…”

He came to a halt and looked at me, I smiled. “His brother’s…?”

“Am I your boyfriend, then?”

“I’ve never been one to put a name to it.”

“But you’re a writer.”

“So, words are important. They define things, and sometimes it’s nicer to have them undefined.”

He exclaimed. “I’m your undefined, am I?”

We were quiet for a bit, then Matt changed course. It was a bit of a lurch, conversationally, but I sort of understood. Matt’s body image was important to him.

“Mum says I need to eat more, put a bit of flesh on my bones.”

“Well, if you overdo it, then you’ll just put fat on, end up with a pot belly and double chin.”

He expressed mock alarm, “What do I do? Stay like this, then?” He did a sort of twirl, just holding the towel in front of his crotch, and I smiled inwardly at the way we had grown sufficiently close that he relaxed his guard, occasionally.

“Go to the gym, work on the important bits, put on bulk in the right places.”

“You ever done that?”

I shook my head, “But I’ve known guys that do, go to the gym regularly and worry about biceps, quads and whatever.”

“I’d worry they’d all be… You know…”

“Not at all, as far as I can gather gyms have their fair share of Dad bods and wimps. It’s not all Mr Universe, particularly the more ordinary establishments.”

“Like the council place at the sports centre.”

“I imagine so.”

“Would you, like, come with me?”

“To the gym?”

“Yeah.”

Now that would be something new. The gym. I’d been a walker recently in Norwich, leaving my cycle behind at The Grange. But, why not? I looked at Matt, “OK. You’re on. We’d need to find the right one, where we got a bit of coaching. I’ve no idea what I’m doing.”

“I could ask the guys at college.”

“They go?”

“Some. But its equal opportunities, some of the girls go too.” He grinned, “And they’re not even Lesbians.”

I reached out to punch him, but he slipped out of reach, still grinning.

---

“Si said it was big, but this is amazing.” Eva stared around the hall. “You ever have concerts here?”

Vince sighed, “Not you too? I gather that that was Gray’s friend Bas’ first reaction. And to answer the question, no.”

“It probably never occurred to Dad, if he used this place at all it was for parties.”

“Besides. Dad got rid of the piano when Gray left for college.”

Simon looked puzzled, “Didn’t you want to use it when you came home?”

I tried to think of a concise answer that didn’t sound shitty. But Vince simply plunged in, “Both Gray and my relationships with Dad were complicated”, he lingered on the word. “Dad used to show his disapproval in a concrete way.”

“So, what did your Dad…”

Simon placed his hand on Eva’s shoulder, “Love, that’s a bit too much?”

“It’s OK. He didn’t approve of me studying English at Uni and going to work on my writing. I was supposed to join the business. Getting rid of the piano was payback, Dad style.”

Eva’s eyes opened wide, and Simon nodded, “Told you love, different world.”

Matt had been lurking in the doorway to the annexe, so we introduced everyone whilst Vince and Peter sorted out teas and coffees. Eva didn’t mind people listening to us playing, but we agreed that it would be a bit too in your face having listeners sitting on the sofas right next to us. We folded back one of the doors to the dining room, getting a look of amazement from Simon and Eva, who commented that “this house just keeps growing”. It would be comfortable having listeners in the dining room or the kitchen.

Eva got out her violin and tuned up and we set off. It was, in many ways, a hoot; Eva took the music seriously, but the process was a different matter, and she kept that light, jokey even. That I made mistakes and did not always follow her was not laboured, so I began to relax and enjoy myself too.

For the nerdy amongst you, Mozart wrote near 40 violin sonatas including more than a dozen from his childhood. We were playing a small selection, and I had let Eva choose, after all I would have to learn the music from scratch whichever ones were selected. She explained that she’d stuck to the later ones where Mozart gave the violin something interesting to do, which covered my arse somewhat if she was being challenged as well as me.

It was music-making amongst friends, and it was fun. It made me wish that I was a better pianist. Once we had done with the sonatas we broke for refreshments, more tea and coffee plus biscuits. The boys appeared; they had been hiding on the balcony sitting on the floor hidden behind the balustrade. Freddie insisted that they were comfortable there. Arvid was clearly loving the music, though I suspected Freddie was spending the time on his phone and just being polite.

We then had what Eva called a jam session and tried out all sorts of pieces, some beyond me, others rather wonderful and some completely kitsch. It was fun.

They stayed for a meal, which Peter and Vince rustled up with remarkable alacrity. We had to use the dining room as there were so many of us.

“This is a wonderful room”, Eve looked around the dining room, “dignified and elegant.”

Vince laughed, “Thank you, but it is rather lost on us. What entertaining we do is usually more casual.”

“For Vince and me, the room still carries a bit of the oppressive weight of family meals.”

“Oh, were they bad?” Simon looked anxious, as if worried they had trespassed into something.

I shook my head, “Not bad. Just stiff and formal.”

“My Father very much on his dignity and Mother fussing over whether the beef was cooked correctly or not.”

“As you can see from the crockery and that, we’re not really set up for showing the room off to its best.” I managed to get a laugh with that.

“So, who actually lives here?”

I realised that though everyone had met or seen everyone else in passing at the poetry reading, Simon and Eva didn’t know who everyone actually was, so we introduced everyone properly.

“Peter is my boyfriend, so he spends the better part of most weekends here.” That made me take notice, Vince using the b-word in public, but the event caused hardly a ripple. “The dark one is my son, Freddie, and the blond one is his school friend, Arvid Michaelsen.”

The boys, who had been paying studious attention to the food, managed a gruff hello, but Arvid’s name caused comment, and he had to explain how his mother was English, and his father was Swedish but had lived here for over 20 years. There must be a story behind that, but now probably wasn’t the time, however.

“And this is my friend Matt”, I made the introduction mock-serious being as Simon knew Matt already. “We met when I first arrived back in Coningham; I revisited the Nature Reserve to check on old haunts and bumped into him there, birdwatching.”

That led to all sorts of discussion, about the Reserve, birdwatching, the fact that Matt’s Mum, Sandra, worked at the Castle Gift Shop.

“I mentioned to Gray about the Gift Shop and them being interested in local writers.”

And, of course, we ended up talking about the reading and, inevitably, my poetry. I started to get defensive, for no good reason. I still found talking about my poetry difficult, I couldn’t explain why I wrote what I wrote. Vince, however, laughed and apologised for me, saying that I was like a bear with a sore head if I had to actually talk poetry, whilst Matt chimed in with the comment that I would answer direct questions as briefly as possible and then clam up.

All of which set me off, because on Wednesday, I was doing it all again, with a reading at the Centre and the book signing. Oh joy.

Matt was busy over the next few days, juggling college and the Nature Reserve, along with actually doing some course work. I got a sense that, perhaps, the weekend had been a bit much for him. A sort of Philpott total immersion, and I resolved to keep things lower key. Or at least try to.

Before he left on Sunday, I had tried to apologise, and I think we would be moving forward.

“Look, I’m sorry for landing you in it earlier. I should have known better. Vince asking if you slept well.” Matt was standing up, but stiffly, so I gave him a hug.

“It’s OK, really. I said yes ‘cause I was curious”, he gave a little smile. “Serves me right. And I did sleep well.”

“Good, but I don’t think Vince was actually asking that.”

“No. I know. But it’s nice your brother and Peter are interested.”

“A bit strange and scary really.”

“’Cause you didn’t used to be close?”

“That’s right, we were always so independent of each other.”

Matt left quite early, saying he had work to do and in fact so had I. When he had apologised, I had smiled and said that he wasn’t the only person playing hooky.

I was well absorbed when Freddie knocked. Thankfully, given why he wanted to speak to me, I was dressed. There was enough of a nip in the air now to make another naked tea increasingly unlikely.

“Can I have a word Uncle Gray?”

“Sure, what’s the problem?”

“I went up to Dad’s room to have a word with him. The door was open, and I thought that we were safe because Peter had left.”

“Go on”, though I had a fair idea about where this might be going.

“I did knock, just a sort of tap and I stuck my head round the door.” His eyes were wide open at the memory. “Dad and Peter were doing it. Naked.”

“Did they see you?”

“No. Dad was kneeling on the bed, his bum was…. Peter was standing behind him, you know…”

“Rogering him up the bum!”

Freddie guffawed, “Seriously. Who uses words like that?”

“I knew someone at Uni.”

Freddie shook his head in wonder, then he became serious again. “Do you think I should tell Dad?”

“That you’ve seen him having sex?” I shrugged, “Were they enjoying themselves?”

He went pink with embarrassment but nodded, “Yeah. Think so.”

“Well then. Think yourself lucky, your Dad has a fulfilling sex life, which means he’ll be happier all round.”

“I know, but…”

I shook my head, “I’ll have a word with him, OK?”

“Thanks.”

So, on Monday evening when Vince stuck his head around the door later in the evening, saying he had just got home, I asked him in. He looked done in; evidently whatever case he was working on wasn’t going well.

“Freddie came to see me yesterday.”

“Do I want to know this?” He looked resigned.

“He wanted to have a quick word with you yesterday evening; your bedroom door was open, so he tapped and stuck his head round the door. He thought Peter had left.”

Vince went beetroot red. “And saw Peter and I in action. Shit, shit, shit. It wasn’t planned. A goodbye kiss got rather more serious.”

“I gather. But it’s no big deal, Vince.”

He thumped the table. “But it is. I can’t have Freddie seeing us doing stuff like that.”

“Well, he’s seen you naked. What’s the problem with him seeing Peter fucking you, having fun. You were having fun, weren’t you?” He nodded. “Is the problem that Freddie saw his big tough Dad taking it up the bum?” I shrugged, “A lot of tough guys do.”

“What do you think?”

“I told Freddie he should be glad that his Dad has a happy and fulfilled sex life. I did not suggest that perhaps he and Arvid might get some tips, however.”

“Don’t you fucking dare!” But a smile did appear.

“What do you want? Freddie to grow up like us, thinking that Dad and Mum never had sex, or do you want to give him a more normal view.”

Vince rumbled, sighed, “But actually seeing us doing it. Still, if you put it like that.”

“All you need to do is say sorry for getting carried away and forgetting the door, but that Freddie should be careful with your bedroom. And, by the way, did he want any tips.” I smirked at the last sentence.

Vince did at least smile and say that he would do something like that, “But not the sex advice.”

I gave an amused snort, “Well, it couldn’t be more embarrassing than Dad giving me the sex talk.”

Vince rolled his eyes, “He probably used the same one he used for me, after all sex doesn’t change, does it?”

It was only much later in the week that I managed to catch up with Freddie. He dropped in on me after school to say that his Dad had apologised for being lax with the door and warned him to be careful about just waltzing into Vince’s bedroom, tout court. And he had offered Freddie tips on technique. This last was said with such wide-eyed amazement that I’d laughed out loud.

“Well, that would probably way less embarrassing than when I got my sex talk from my Dad.”

“Wow. Grandad gave you a sex talk. The lot?”

“Of course. It’s what fathers do. Proper behaviour. Didn’t Vince do that with you?”

Freddie shrugged, “Not really, but if I had questions I’d ask, and he’d explain.”

I smiled, “Including sex tips?”

“No way. That’s too weird.”