Future Queens of England (5 page)

“Uh, okay, Sir.”  And with that Hugh started to drag his suitcase up the stairs and into the large entrance.

Continuing his welcome of the new arrivals, the Head noticed a scruffy character, who looked somewhat out of place, heading towards the entrance.  “Excuse me!” he called out, “we ask the builders to use the side entrance.”

The figure stopped and scowled.  “What?”

“We prefer the builders to use the side entrance,” the Head repeated irritably, “the main entrance is just for teachers and students.  I’m sure you understand, old boy.”

“But I am a student.”

“Are you really?”  “Then would you mind introducing yourself?”

“Tony Horwood.”

The Head gazed skywards for a moment.  “Tony Horwood,” he mumbled.  He ran his fingers through his hair and repeated the name.

Tony fidgeted impatiently.

“Ah yes!” exclaimed the Head abruptly, making Tony jump, “Our special case!”

“Well I supposed that is one way of looking at it.”

“Yes, yes Mr Horwood.”  He surveyed Tony silently for a moment and grinned.  “A few weeks here and you’ll feel like a different man.”  Tony flinched again at the sudden outburst.  “You’ll soon be seeing our lot in a completely different light.”

“I doubt that very much,” Tony protested.

“No, no, mark my words.  Anyway, you’re either one of us or you’re
one of them
.”  He began to chuckle heartily.  Tony found something disingenuous about the man.  He decided this conversation had gone on long enough and walked through the door to the sound of the Head laughing at his own joke.

As Tony crossed the threshold he allowed his eyes a moment to adjust to the dimness of the foyer.  He was starting to get pins and needles in his hand from the weight of his bag, so he lowered it to the ground.  An attractive woman walked in front of him.  She was of medium height, maybe five and a half feet tall when not in heels.  Her dark hair draped effortlessly across her shoulders and her lustrous, deep brown eyes made her seem Mediterranean but her pale skin contradicted that.

He eyed her up and thought to himself, maybe it’s not so bad; I can think of a couple of things I’d like to study here.  He smiled lasciviously at her.  She slowed her pace.  She looked as though she knew she was being watched, and out of the corner of her eye caught Tony staring at her. 

She stopped and walked over to him, speaking sternly: “I’ve told the builders that they are to use the side entrance, not the main door.” 

He frowned.  Nice packaging, he thought, but what a bitch.

“This door is only …” 

Tony cut her off.  “Yes, I know, I know.  This entrance is only for teachers and students.  Well I’m a bloody student here, believe it or not.”

“No way,” she exclaimed, making no attempt to hide her disapproval.  “They are really scraping the bottom of the barrel this year.”

Tony spluttered.

“How the hell are they going to sort you out?” she scoffed.  “I wouldn’t know where to even start!”

“Oi, first I ain’t a frigging poof.  Secondly, no one here will be sorting me out.  But actually, love, I’d be more than happy to let you sort me out, if you know what I mean.”  There was a pause and Tony waited expectantly.

“Do NOT call me ‘love’. I have a name.  It’s Louise.” She stepped back and eyed Tony from top to bottom.  “I’m the Facilities Manager here and I do not fraternise with students … and certainly not with ruffians like you.”

Tony smirked.  “Ah well, you can’t knock down a coconut every time,” he said with resignation.  He watched Louise continue on her way.  She looks great from the back, he thought, studying her arse intently as she departed.  She turned her head back towards Tony and caught him staring at her backside.  Tony gulped, realising he’d been caught out, and whistled cheekily as the blood rushed into his cheeks.

A small group had gathered at the corner of the foyer and were pointing excitedly at a notice board.  Tony walked over and tried to see what they were all looking at.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“Oh these are the dorm arrangements,” replied one of crowd.

“Dorm arrangements?” he said, genuinely confused.  “What do you mean, dorm arrangements?”

“You know, dorm – as in dormitory,” said the man next to him.

“You mean dormitory, as in sharing?”

He nodded
.
“Eight to a room.”

“As in, we don’t get our own rooms
?
”  Tony shook his head i
n
despair.

“It’s not a hotel, of course we have to share,” commented someone else.

“Oh bollocks,” Tony cursed.  “As if this isn’t bad enough already.”

“What’s wrong with that?  It’ll be absolutely super, all boys together.”

“Chin up,” another cheery voice piped.  “What’s your name?  I’ll see what room you’re in.”

“Tony.  Tony Horwood.”

“Hiya Tony, I’m Hugh.  Pleased to meet you.”

Tony grunted.

Hugh ignored this and pushed his way closer to the notice board.  He held his finger up to the paper pinned onto the board and ran it down the column.  A, B, C …
h
is finger moved down to the surnames beginning with H.

“Horwood, Tony Horwood.  Found you!  You’re in the Larry Grayson Boudoir.”

Tony ma
d
e a noise like he was choking.  “The bleeding Larry Grayson Boudoir!  Holy shit!”

Hugh didn’t hear Tony since he was busy looking up his own name.  Suddenly he clapped his hands in excitement.  “Tony, Tony!”

“What?”

“We’ll be sharing, I’m in Larry Grayson too!”

“Oh lucky me,” Tony chuntered sardonically.   Hugh turned to Tony and squeezed his shoulders.  Tony pushed Hugh off him at once. “Get off me you bloody queen!”

“Oh, listen to the Bear.  It’s a good job I like a bit of rough.”  He waved his wrist limply in Tony’s direction.

“Sharing with seven bloody homos.”  He shook his head in disbelief.  “I won’t be able to sleep at night with you lot in the room probably wanting to bum me.”

Hugh laughed and addressed the group.  “Listen to my room-mate, isn’t he a card.”  He looked at Tony.  “We’ll be bunking up together, but I think we’ll be able to control ourselves.”  He licked his lips and leant closer to Tony.  “At least we’ll try and resist.”  Tony shuddered visibly.  “Come on roomy, let’s go.  I wonder what sort of beds we’ll get.”  Hugh paused, waiting for Tony to respond, but when no response came he tittered, “Queen-size, I hope.”

Tony trudged up the staircase towards his dormitory while Hugh almost skipped, which was difficult to do dragging a suitcase. The suitcase banged on each step, hindering his ascension.  At the top of the stairs there were two sets of double doorways, one on the left and another opposite on the right.  Above each doorway was fixed a sign stating the dormitory name.

Hugh directed Tony.  “Left here Tony.”

“I know, I’m not blind.”

He walked to the left and pushed open one of the large mahogany doors.  They walked into the dormitory together and a voice shouted over to them.  “Welcome to the Larry Grayson Boudoir.  Now shut that door!”  The room exploded with laughter.

“Jesus Christ!” gasped Tony, “I wonder how long it’ll take for that to get old.”

Hugh held his stomach and shouted, “Good one guys.”  There were two free single beds left in the room.  Hugh ran to the bed in the corner of the room and leapt onto it.  “Bagsy this one!”  Tony didn’t respond, but solemnly walked to the remaining bed like a man on his way to the electric chair.

He sat on the edge of the bed and surveyed the room that he would be spending the next few months in.  There were seven other single beds, each with different and elaborately patterned duvet covers.  Tony looked at his duvet and noticed that there wasn’t a cover or a pillowcase.  It hadn’t even occurred to him to bring his own bedding.  He looked at the high ceiling and then to the discerningly chic papered walls.  Tony counted four large rectangular windows and each windowsill was adorned with a number of modern ornaments.  Either side of each bed was a small area for each student; there was a bedside cabinet with a lamp and reasonably sized wardrobe.  Everyone had their cases on top of their beds and some students were busy hanging up their clothes in the wardrobes.  Others were busy accessorising their areas with scatter cushions and throws.  One took a vase from his suitcase and placed it on his bedside cabinet.

What is going on? thought Tony, who the hell packs a vase?

He stood up and unzipped his sports bag.  He took out his screwed-up jeans, his football shirts and his dirty trainers.  He looked up and saw his room-mate’s immaculate clothes; they looked brand new, without a crease on them.  Tony unpacked the contents of his wash bag, which comprised a razor and an old toothbrush.  He looked over at Hugh as he took out his own bulging wash bag, unzipped it and extracted a cornucopia of male grooming products.  Tony suddenly realised that he hadn’t brought any pyjamas either.

“Oh shit,” he said barely audibly. “Perhaps I can sleep in one of my football shirts?”  He sat back down on the bed and propped up his bare pillow against the headboard and leant back.

“You look really fed up, Tony.  What’s wrong?” Hugh asked with genuine sympathy.

“Look, I really don’t want to talk about it.”

Hugh searched in his bag and said, “You look tense but I’ve got just the thing.”  He took out some incense sticks and lit the end of one with a lighter.  The incense started to burn, releasing a plume of smoke that snaked towards the ceiling.

“Here Tony, breathe some of this in.  It’ll help you to relax.”  Tony waved Hugh away silently, but Hugh ignored his protests and placed the incense sticks next to Tony’s bed.

“Are you looking forward to the big welcome party tonight?”

“What welcome party?”

“Oh, you’ll love it.  It’s the biggest party of the year.  It’s themed, you know.”  Tony raised his head without interest but acknowledged Hugh’s answer.  “Have you got your outfit planned?” enquired Hugh.

“Yes,
”
Tony answered. 
“
I’m wearing it.”

“Well, if the theme is
the 19
70s you can go as the construction worker from the Village People,” Hugh offered positively.  “Wait until you see my outfit.”  He took his shirt and trousers off, stood there in his underpants and socks and continued to chat.  Tony turned away, not knowing exactly where to look.  Hugh took his socks off and folded them neatly on the bed.  “Ooh, nice deep shag!” he said sensuously.

“What!” shrieked Tony.

“The carpet, it’s a nice deep shag.  It feels wonderful under my feet.  They spare no expense here you know.  They only use the best furnishings.”

“Oh right, right.”  Tony was relieved but visibly shaken.

Hugh looked over to the other side of the room at a student with blonde hair and blue eyes and tapped his nose at him to let him in on the joke.  The blonde stopped what he was doing and walked over to Hugh.

“Hallo.  My name is Uwe.”

“Oh, you’re foreign, how exciting,” Hugh exclaimed and clapped his hands together.  “I’m Hugh,” and he then gestured at Tony and said, “and this is my friend Tony.  Tony meet Uwe.”

There was a momentary pause and then Uwe
spoke
in the cold, expressionless voice of a Bond villain: “We’ve already met!”  Tony looked up in disbelief as the colour drained from his face. 

“Oh
,
Bollocks!”

Chapter
Five

The residents of the Larry Grayson Boudoir descended the grand staircase together, seven young men dressed to kill, followed closely by a reluctant shadow.  You could tell that each of the seven had agonised over every element of their outfit.  Every inch of skin had been exfoliated, every pore deep-cleansed.