Rites of Passage
A huge jump forward for Petruchio and Kate's triplets .They are young men in this story, although I reserve the right to jump back again if I choose.
Shakespeare created Kate and Petruchio. Sally Wainwright created their triplets, I created Lexi .
I write about them purely for my own entertainment.
I have chosen excepts from Chicago's 'Where were you ?' for this little story.
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Where was I when you were following someone?
I should have been falling in love with you.
I was doing all right in my own little world
Suddenly you were there
Upside down, turned around
Wasn't looking for anything new.
I 've got the heart and hand of a sweet little girl
I just got to be fair.
But my heart it can't hide
What it's feeling insidwhen it's true.
I ain't asking you to save me
I'm a weaver of my own web
i don't know what to do
But just try to get on with my life.
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Rites of Passage
Christmas Eve in Charlbury is bloody awful. Everyone pushing, everybody cold and damp. We grabbed some things which would do as presents and decided to shove our way into Starbucks. It was crowded and muggy. As soon as we had the chance we manoeuvred our way from the poky little tables at the back and grabbed the sofa in the window and acquired the armchair from an adjoining table.
No-one said anything; who wants to sit with four, twenty year olds anyway?
We weren't noisy or badly behaved or anything.
We wouldn't. I mean we wouldn't show Mum up. Dad would tear us to shreds. Well, not literally but he would have a few choice words to say to us.
We were down from Uni. We hadn't seen each other since September. Hard to believe when we think we had never been apart till we went up to Uni.
I think Mum and Dad thought we would all go to the same one but we talked about things with them and each other.
Mike wanted to go to drama school; so he went up to RADA.
Pete, the academic one of us, wanted to read English, so it was Oxford for him. All of us Cricks went to Oxford till Dad. His was redbrick -Warwick.
And me, the eldest, I would inherit Hazlington. I love Hazlington, I always have.
I thought I should know how to look after it so, I am up at the Royal Agricultural University in Cirencester, reading estate management.
I said there were four of us in Starbucks: the last guy was a friend of Mike's from RADA.
Toby.
His name is Oberon, and his younger sister is Titania .
God! The names some people pick for their kids border on cruelty, Dad says, and he would know.
Well, I mean Petruchio ! Who could blame him? He hates his nickname too, only fractionally less than he hates his name.
Piers ! Also chosen by his parents.
I suppose Toby's parents have some excuse. They met when they were doing Shakespeare's Dream. You'd know them; his divorced parents I mean. His mother is the 'celebrity ' daughter of 'Our National Treasure' playwright, now married to that millionaire entrepreneur bloke; his father is the illustrious, newly knighted jewel of Stage, screen and any woman's bed. Anyway, Toby's dad married his very much younger girlfriend last week and buggered off on his honeymoon. Toby was meant to spend Christmas with his old lady in Pimlico but he and his stepfather had a furious row,and he had been thrown out.
Mike said "Come down with us. There's stacks of room and always loads of food.
Mum being Mum said 'Come to us for Christmas. It will have blown over by then."
So Toby's with us.
He is slight, not particularly tall, and fragile looking, sort of prettyish with long fine gold ringlets.
Now, he said "Hey Mike, there's someone waving at you. Some girl."
"Whoa ! Isn't it her lucky day? Where is she?"
"Outside. Oh, she's coming in."
We all turned to search for her.
Somebody little pushed her way through the crowd.
"Hi, gang."
She stood there.
"Hi." we said, not making any attempt to get up. Toby did.
"Oh," Mike said disappointedly. " Oh Toby, this is Lexi. Our sister."
"Um, would you like to sit down?"
"Nah, I can sit here on the arm of the chair."
Lexi is just sixteen. She is a tiny little thing , not much bigger than Mum, and God knows she's is not very big. We hadn't seen her since September. She had been away on a school trip last week , so it was the first time Toby had met her.
Toby sat again. I looked at him, then at her. It was the first time I had seen my sister as another bloke might see her .
I suppose she is quite pretty ...and so young!
I looked at him again. He was leching over her, and I wanted to smash his nose all over his pretty face.
He could not keep his eyes off her.
I watched them through Midnight Mass.
And through Christmas Day!
He was watching her as if she was the sexiest fairy on the tree.
And Boxing Day! They went for a walk; I wanted to go with them but Lexi made it very clear she did not want any other company .
And when they came back, she looked well and truly kissed.
He held her hand all the time.
The row with his stepfather did not blow over .
I began to worry. I decided to speak to the boys.
.
"Are you saying I'm fucking kinky about my - our - sister?" I spluttered out in fury. " I ought to knock your bloody teeth down your sodding throat."
There was a fraught silence.
We are twenty. We have never fought.
Oh, we rolled around the floor as little kids but not heated angry adult quarrelling.
Like this.
Pete folded his book shut, his finger holding his place.
" No, Roop. I am not saying that. I am saying that you are being over protective of our little sister."
I seethed for a bit.
" He's your friend, Mike. What do you think?"
" Nah! He wouldn't know where to begin. He's still a virgin."
Pete cleared his throat and looked up at him meaningfully. Mike caught the glance, they both looked at me and looked away.
I saw them.
"How do you know?" I snarled.
"He told me."
Pete muttered, " Everyone has to lose it sometime. "
"Yeh !" I said. "But I'd rather it wasn't with my sister. She's only sixteen."
" As I said, everybody has to..."
"This is Lexi we're talking about." I interrupted heatedly. "Are you OK about some berk..."
" No!" Peter said in his slow manner. " No, I'm not. But I am not happy discussing her like this either. What about you, Mike?"
" I'm not worried. I don't think he would move on her but I know one thing," a little cough of a laughter. "I wouldn't have to do anything if he did. Dad would break his back."
The atmosphere lightened.
" Anyway, he's still a virgin." said Mike. "Twenty!"
Pete looked hard at Mike, then at me and then he and Mike looked at each other.
I knew what they were thinking.
Mike had popped his cherry, just after our seventeenth birthday and though he is up at RADA, and everyone think actors are...you know ... put it about a bit... he has only had two other girlfriends.
Pete lost his when he went up to Oxford. It must be the gentle dreamy poet image that does it but he can't keep the girls out of his pants. Not that he tries very hard.
And me?
Twenty and still a virgin !
Oh, my brothers don't ask and if I imply I am not, they just nod.
But I know that they know that I am still a virgin.
It isn't that I don't like girls.
I do ! I do.
it is just ...
You'd think that ... well, with two confident totally extrovert parents, Dad is a peer of the realm, Mum has been an MP for all of our lives and PM for most of that time and has just been elected for another five year term so we have always had to socialise all our lives. So with two brothers and having had the best education in the country, you would think I could cope with almost anything, wouldn't you?
Well, I can't.
I am not shy. Well, I don't think so...
I can mix with all ages and sexes together .
But put me in a one to one situ with a girl and I am dumb, paralyzed, brain dead; I can't breathe. Three mins. max. and I just have to get out.
I am not afraid of them .
At least , not exactly ...
.
I had my usual brood about that, then went back to thinking about Lexi.
They spent the whole of the estate's New Year 's Eve party together.
Right! I decided. Go to the top.
Not to Dad! No, Mike is right. Dad would just explode and I wouldn't want to be in the way .
I went to Mum.
She was in her study.
I stuttered and stammered and eventually got it out. She listened as she piled her papers together and packed them into the red boxes to go back to Downing Street in the morning.
"Now lovey, I'm glad you are concerned about your sister but..." she sat on the edge of her desk and took both of my hands.
" It is good of you to think of her but you don't have to worry about Lexi. She has got her head screwed on all right.
It won't last long, lovey. She is very young and she will be back in school next week."
She held my face and kissed my forehead.
" But if it makes you feel better, I will keep my eye on them."
It did too.
And she was right. There were no bad feelings on either side but it was over before the start of term.
.
Chalk Farm Drama Centre and RADA had got together to throw the annual charity ball at Easter. Toby was on the committee; Mike twisted Pete's and my arms to buy tickets for it.
This year it was being held out at Chalk Farm.
I was leaning against the bar; not drunk, just nicely happy.
"Hey, Haz."
It was Toby.
Mum and Dad had converted the basement of our Chelsea house into a flat for us. Toby was good mates with Mike, so when I came up from Uni to see Mike, I saw quite a bit of him.
But I still did not completely trust him.
"Would you do me a favour? Umm, I'm supposed er... You with anyone ?"
I carefully looked around.
" No-oo. I don't think so."
" I've pulled." he said. "Umm... I've got to see Tania home. Tania ? My sister? Umm-I'm -she...Would you see her home- that is if you are not - - "
I looked at him with raised eyebrows.
"I mean, she's only eighteen. I don't like the idea of her crossing London on her own at this time of the night.. I wouldn't usually .. but God, Haz , this one is a bit special, you know... but, I mean, would you like the idea of Lexi on her own.. ? Crossing London? Would you?"
No, I wouldn't.
I looked at him.
" No, I suppose not. Oh, OK."
"Oh thanks ! I'll do the same for you one day."
I doubted that very much.
"I'll tell Tania."
I have met her a couple of times but I don't really know her. A noisy flighty tarty little thing, the sort that strikes me dumb.
.
I saw her later. She glared at me.
I was getting my coat; she already had hers.
When I turned from the cloakroom, she was disappearing out of the main doors.
I shoved my way through the crowd out onto the street. She wasn't at the taxi rank; then I saw her at the bus-stop. I dashed up to her and caught her arm.
" What are you doing? Toby told you I would see you home."
"I don't need seeing home."
The all night bus stopped beside us. She pulled her arm away and jumped on board. I followed suit, a couple following behind us. She slid an Oyster card through the machine.
"Shit ! Shit. "
I searched for some cash.
" No cash, only cards." the driver said.
"Shit , sshitt!"
He jerked his thumb at the 24/7 newspaper kiosk nearby.
"Wait for me. I'll be back. Two mins. max ."
He shrugged. I was back and slotting the card through the machine, I looked around for her. There were only three others on board downstairs . None of them were her.
"She went upstairs, mate."
The driver muttered. He released the brake and pulled away from the kerb.
She was in the back seat. I walked the length of the empty bus and threw myself down beside her.
" What the hell are you playing at? I told your brother I would see you home."
"I don't need anybody to see me home. You or anybody else."
"I told him I would and I will." I said levelly.
She turned away and stared at her reflection in the darkened window and I did the same in the other direction. Mum and Dad, and Lexi, have ferociously bad tempers which they lose with frequent regularity but my brothers and I are quite easy going. We don't often lose our tempers but I could feel this might be one of those occasions.
Several minutes passed in silence .
She half-turned towards me, "You don't like me, do you?"
"I don't know you well enough to have formed an opinion." I said loftily.
"Pompous git."
She shifted to sit on her foot, watching me still. The usual panic began to rise.
" Are you gay ?"
"Wha-at?" A quick sideway glance at her.
"Shut your mouth. It makes you look simple."
" What 's it got to do with you?"
" You are! You are, aren't you?"
"No." I muttered. I cleared my throat . "No."
She raised her eyebrows sceptically.
" Any boy with your looks is always gay."
"NO!" I was getting annoyed.
"No-o, maybe not -but you're a real tight arse. I bet you're a virgin, aren't you? "
" That's none of your business ." I mumbled again, a little defiantly this time." No!"
"Yes, you are."
She rested her arm on the back of the seat, her chin on her arm.
She said. "What am I going to do about you, Haz?"
Oh,God ! Why doesn't she just shut up?
What is she going to do? What am I going to do? I am going to have to get off this bus in a minute. That's what.
"Uh, uh, why should you have to do anything with me?"
" Because ... because Haz... What the hell sort of bloody stupid name is that ?"
"It is not a name, it's a title. it's Hazlington. I'm Viscount Hazlington. At school we were called by our surnames or titles. It got shortened to Haz and it sort of stuck." I mumbled .
"Oh!" Her mouth formed a soft red rosebud .
" So, what is your name?"
"Rupert."
"Rupert. I should have known that lovely sensible people like your parents would give their children lovely sensible names."
In the circles my warm loving hot tempered eccentric family move in, I have heard my parents called a lot of things but never lovely, or sensible, and slightly astonished, I turned to look at her.
Not a wise move.
Soft gold baby curls surrounded a heart shaped face.
Straight black brows were pulled together and that rosebud mouth pouted below a snub nose and huge sky blue eyes that looked straight at me.
It was like a rabbit caught in headlights.
Me! Not her.
"So what am I going to do with you, Rupert?"
"Why should you have to do anything with me ?"
She leaned closer.
"Because I've got the hots for you. Ever since I walked into my Mum's drawing room and saw you looking just like David about to have a massive strop. Shut your mouth! I've told you. It makes you look simple.
"I wasn't having a strop ."
" you certainly looked like it. "
"Who's David anyway ?"
She tst-tsted. " Michelangelo's David. The marble ? In Florence?"
She was so close. I could see the texture of her skin, the length of her lashes, smell the scent of her, feel how small, how soft she was against me.
She pulled gently at the lapel of my coat and rested her forehead against mine.
"I bet you've never even been kissed ."
"Yes, yes, I have ...no..."
She kissed me and somehow I was kissing her as if I knew what I was doing.
Her mouth, oh God, her mouth!
She climbed onto my lap, undid her coat and snuggled inside mine
"I haven't got any knickers on." she whispered against my mouth.
"Wha-aat?
Did you come out without any knickers on?"
"No. Don't be silly! I took them off in the cloakroom when I was getting my coat."
It dawned on me what that implied.
"Were you meeting someone?" Again I was slightly shocked .
"Only you."
"But you you .. why did you.. ?"
She had a little smile on her face: I could feel that familiar terrifying feeling building up, but this time I didn't want to run.
Her hand was on my chest, now I was losing my breath ... no , my bloody mind.
She wriggled again and I could feel oh God I could feel...her.
"You wanna to do it, Rupert?"
Did I?
" I haven't done it before." I mumbled
I could feel her smile. "That's Ok. I have."
She kissed me again.
Oh, Brilliant! The height of cool!
Rupert, seventeenth Viscount Hazlington, lost his virginity on the back seat of a No. 24 bus.
And pretty wonderful it was too.
I looked down at her, she opened her eyes. She looked so young, so vulnerable.
She smiled a little tremulous smile and I knew she was none of the things I thought I hated about her.
I wrapped my arms around her and she curled into me.
A little whisper .
"Was it OK ?"
"Wonderful, you were wonderful ."
" Rupert? you weren't drunk, were you?"
"I wasn't before but I think I well maybe now. Blind, falling down drunk; completely paralytic with fucking you. "
She squeezed me .
Suddenly she raised her head.
"Hey. Ring the bell, it's our stop. "
We tumbled laughing down the stairs and onto the quiet empty streets of Pimlico, walking side by side without talking, without touching until she stopped at the steps of their house.
" Coming in ?"
" D'you think it will be alright?"
"Mummy and Tom are away and Toby's not likely to be back till morning."
We went in and hand in hand she led me up the stairs to her room. we looked each other while we undressed.
"You are so beautiful."
"So are you. I knew you would look just like David."
I swung her up in my arms and laid her on the bed.
.
She let me out into the clear early morning. I strolled through the empty Sunday morning streets home to Chelsea. I don't think I had slept any but I felt wonderful.
I clattered down the steps to our flat and let myself into the kitchen.
My brothers were having breakfast. Perhaps they had only just got in too. I didn't care much. I was on too much of a high.
I pinched a piece of toast from Pete's plate on my way around to the counter, and stuck it in my mouth while I put two slices of bread in the toaster and took the orange juice out of the fridge.
"God, you look rough."
Pete looked up. "He broke his duck!"
Mocking cheers from the pair of them.
I took a long swig of juice from the carton
I stuck my middle finger in the air and smiled as I used our mother's favourite term of abuse.
"Swivel!"
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If you should think the bus seduction is unlikely , I refer you Cherie Blair's autobiography
'Speaking for myself'.
'to break your duck' a cricketing term meaning to score a first run after a long period.
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