Terry and the Peachers

VII

By Michael Arram

'What the fuck!' shouted Terry. The boy coughed and spluttered, he'd taken a mouth full of water. 'What the hell are you doin' here?'

Peter Peacher shook his head to clear it. 'I might ask you why you threw a bucket of water over me!'

'Oh, well sorry, but this is Ramon's bed. The bucket was meant for him. You know the entire population of California is looking for you, and the National Guard may be mobilised?'

'Who're you?'

'I'm Terry O'Brien.'

'Get me a towel.' Terry shrugged and obliged, 'I ask again, what're you doing here?'

But the boy didn't answer direct questions. 'You're a Brit. Do you work for Andy?'

'I'm his driver and aide.'

'Then get him for me.'

'I can't, he's in Santa Barbara.'

'Oh shit.' The boy slumped, and for the first time really looked like a boy, powerless and disconsolate and even on the verge of tears.

Terry was touched. He sat down on a dry bit of bed, and said kindly. 'I'd like to help, Peter, but you need to tell me a few things. Shall I get Matt?'

'No, don't. Hate that guy.'

'Seems to me that (a) you have not been kidnapped, and (b) there's something big bugging you. I got the impression that you and Andy don't get along, so it must be bad if you feel you can only turn to him.'

Peter looked at him sheepishly, 'The servants usually know what's going on. When's Andy coming back?'

'Tonight, if I can get a message through to him. I take it you don't want it known you're here, but you really must give me a reason, a very good reason, to keep that information to myself.'

'Please don't tell anyone,' said another young male voice.

Terry heard soft steps behind him, and turned, but it was not Ramon. It was another teenage boy, about fifteen he guessed, taller, dark haired and very beautiful. He looked apprehensive. 'Now who are you?'

'He's Jordan Simmons. He's my friend.' And all of a sudden things became very clear to Terry. He recognised the doe-eyed look that had passed between the boys. It was the same one that he used to follow Paul around with.

'Ah...' he said. 'Are you two sleeping together?'

Jordan moved towards Peter and they clasped hands, looking defiant and desperate.

Peter said, 'How did you know? Oh, I get it, you're one too, aren't you?'

'Oh yes, me Terry, the carefree gay warrior. I know the signs. No-one better. OK kid, you've given the secret password. The pink freemasonry kicks into operation. And I think I know why at long last you can see a point in having a big brother.' The faces of the two boys showed intense relief. 'Do you want to get changed into something dry?'

'We didn't bring a change.'

'Typical boys. Well, stick the wet stuff on the radiator, and here's my bathrobe. You'd better go and have a shower.'

'What, both of us?'

'Why not? Just don't get too carried away.' They looked suddenly hopeful, and horny, despite the circumstances. Typical boys.

Terry ignored the splashing, loud gasps and strange grunts that came from behind the bathroom door, although they went on for over half an hour. He just shouted through the door that he didn't want to find the floor awash. Only giggles answered him. Typical boys.

Terry dashed across to Sylvia's desk and found Andy's secure mobile number, with the priority code. He tapped it in. It rang insistently and eventually a sleepy voice answered. 'Is it a meteor strike or world war three?... it'd better be good, Sylvia.'

'It's not Sylvia.'

'Terry! What's going on?'

'I think you need to be back here, Andy, and I think you need to be here as fast as you possibly can.'

'What's going on?'

'Keep your departure quiet. But let's just say, your relationship with one of your brothers has just changed beyond all recognition. Come to the pool house when you get back.'

The boys emerged from the bathroom wearing nothing but robes, Terry couldn't resist observing that Jordan was quite something, a really hot kid. Peter too was growing to be a very handsome boy, and as a couple they were a bit more aesthetically balanced than Matt and Andy. Still, both Andy and his younger brother had proved that they could sure pick them.

Terry went and raided the fridge across in the big house. He spread the lot on the table in his living room. The two boys descended on it like a wolf pack. Jordan told him he'd been trying to find some food before he arrived. The two lads chattered away and were very funny. He quite warmed to Peter, though he realised that perhaps in other circumstances it would have not been so easy to like him. But as they sat there, shovelling down Ben and Jerry's and playing footsie under his table, it was difficult to resist the pair.

'So how come your absence hasn't been noticed, Jordan?'

'My mom thinks I'm on a two-night sleepover. She works, and I've got no dad, so she hasn't checked.'

'So you were the strange masked figure that kidnapped Peter.'

'Yeah, I taped him up and acted like his abductor. Pete disabled the security system.'

Peter kicked him, 'We gotta try duct tape next time.'

'What a pair of perverts.' The two boys giggled and fell about.

'So once we were out of the compound, I took off my pyjamas...' continued Peter.

'... loved that bit, we fooled round some in the bushes...' Jordan interrupted.

'Yeah, and then we hurried downtown.' Peter looked at Terry earnestly, 'Thanks, Terry. I'm glad you found us. You're really cool.'

As Terry smiled and turned away, he saw Peter grope Jordan between the legs while he thought he wasn't looking, and they were clearly already working up to their next erotic episode. He opened the spare room at the bottom of the corridor, made up the double bed and told them to get some sleep. An hour later he looked in. They were naked together under the covers and asleep in each other's arms, and the smell in the room told him how they'd worn themselves out. He looked at them wistfully. The two boys were flushed and very beautiful indeed. Terry was already old enough to feel nostalgic for his teenage years

At four, in the cool before the Californian dawn, a taxi pulled up outside. Andy had a word with the police before he came round the house. Terry had stayed up and on the alert. He met Andy as he came up the stairs, he put his finger to his lips and motioned him to the spare room and opened the door quietly. The two boys were still cuddled together and fast asleep. He looked significantly at his boss and raised his eyebrows. Andy looked stunned, but what he had seen must have answered most of his questions. They left quietly and went over to the kitchen.

After Terry had made his explanations, Andy sat stirring his coffee looking vaguely into the distance.

'We'd better wake them up and get the full story, I suppose. Still, we'll give it an hour or so. They must be exhausted.'

'Where's Ramon?'

'I think he and his aunt went to stay overnight with her sister in the Valley. She was owed a day and she said the place was a madhouse. Also she wanted to get poor Ramon to herself so as to give him a good tongue-lashing about his latest unsuitable boyfriend.'

'Poor Ramon.'

'I'll get Matt up too,' said Andy.

'Er no, I wouldn't.'

Andy looked faintly offended, 'Why not?'

'Your brother and you need to talk this time. It's between you two, and Matt can't help you, in fact, from what Pete said, it may do some harm.'

'Pete!' Andy's pale eyebrows were raised in wonder, 'You just called my monstrous little brother, Pete!'

As the approaching dawn began to lighten the sky, Terry and Andy shook the two boys awake. They looked momentarily disorientated but soon snapped back to reality. Andy told them to get dressed and join them in Terry's living room. Terry had brought over breakfast. He sat quiet while they talked, Peter had insisted that he stayed.

Andy began, 'Let's start with a relatively easy one. How did you get from Santa Barbara to Pasadena?'

Peter grinned, 'That's easy. People forget that buses in Southern California exist. We left home in time to get the first one down the coast. We were in Santa Monica well before anyone knew we were gone. We wore bad clothes and ball caps. No one recognised us. No-one's more anonymous than teenage boys. We all look the same. I'd plotted a transit route right across the basin. Easy on the web. But police were everywhere when we got to your house, and we watched you drive off. We hung out on a neighbourhood basketball court, looking suspicious, just like kids do. When it got dark we sneaked over next door's fence and hid out in Terry's house where he found us.'

'That's the easy one,' said Andy. 'Now the hardest of all questions. Why?'

Jordan looked scared, but Peter clenched his jaws. 'I had to. Mom's a bitch. I can't live with her, and Dad's just as bad.'

'That's fine so far as it goes,' said Andy, 'but fifty-per-cent of American teenagers, probably more, might say that and wouldn't do what you just did. So details please.'

Peter's ears turned scarlet in much the same way as Andy's did when he was angry or embarrassed. 'It was Saturday night. Jordan and me had met up on our bikes, and we sneaked back to the pool house in the compound. We're both at St Ignatius College. We got to be friends last year, and then more than friends.' Peter blushed, 'We've been making out for three months now. We love each other.' He looked across at Jordan, who reached out and took his hand, a simple and beautiful gesture, but not as beautiful as the look on Jordan's face as he stared at his lover. These two have got it bad, thought Terry. Andy saw it too, and his face softened. Peter resumed, 'Anyway. Jordan and me got into the pool house, and one of the empty bedrooms no one ever uses. We were just getting into it when the door opened, and mom was there. Worst nightmare. She flipped. She's always so cool, but she laid into me like a fury, which made it worse. She threw Jordan out and his clothes after him, and shrieked at him he could forget St Ignatius, she'd have him out of the place on his faggot butt for corrupting her child. She took my cellphone off me, sent me to my room, told me I was grounded for a century and that Dad would have to know that he'd got two perverts for so-called sons.'

Andy's ears flared in sympathy for his brother. 'Did she tell him, Pete?'

'I dunno Andy. Everything was in chaos 'cos of the White House reception. I wanted to speak to you there, but when it came to it, I couldn't. It was all so public and... y'know. I'd got into the habit of hating you.' Then even Terry realised that a new thing was unrolling here. Peter trembled on the verge, and then he launched himself at his brother and hugged him hard, burying his head in Andy's shoulder. He heard muffled words, like 'sorry', 'never appreciated', 'really love you'. He and Jordan sat quiet while the scene played out. Terry was not a great one for tears, but his eyes filled, and the two brothers' faces were wet when they parted. Andy kept hold of his brother's hand.

'I'm glad you came to me, Petey,' he said simply.

'Me too bro,' Peter half-sobbed. He wiped his face with his sleeve, a very boyish gesture. 'So we had to leave. I got a message through to Jordan... mom doesn't really understand e-mail and computers. I had to tell you. I knew you'd help me. You know what it's like. I don't want to go back.'

Andy sat quiet for a moment, stunned by the latest events.

'Petey, first thing is to call off the manhunt. People have got to know you're safe. I've got my own opinion on your mother, but she's been genuinely shaken by your disappearance. Perhaps because she knows that it had a lot to do with her... not that she could tell the police that.'

'Does this mean I gotta go back to that hell hole and never see my Jordan again?' He was on the verge of tears once more.

'Petey, you're fourteen and a half. It's time to get real. I know you love Jordan, and I know it's the real thing for you. It really is. It may never be more real than this for you for the rest of your life. But you are still a kid. No, don't get annoyed. Running away can't work, but patience can. I'll break it to Dad, and maybe he'll let you stay with me for a bit until things cool down, but Jordan has to go back. He's all his mum's got. He gave up a lot to run away with you, maybe more than you realise. You'll still see each other at school. I can make sure of that, but for a while, maybe quite a while, you won't be together the way you want to be. But you love each other don't you?'

The two boys looked at each other and nodded with decision. Terry was intrigued to see exactly the same look of determination on Peter's face that he had once or twice seen on Andy's. Andy continued, 'Then if that love is the real thing, it will last, and nothing on earth can stop you being together in the end.'

Peter and Jordan nodded, Peter sniffed.

'So are we agreed?'

They nodded again, Peter with some reluctance. 'Now me and Terry are going across to the big house. It's seven o'clock. At eight I'll ring Dad, and call in the police. You've got an hour together to say and do whatever you want.' He smiled, 'Bless you both. You really are ...' He couldn't finish. He let go of Peter's hand, and stood up. Peter stood up too, and hugged his brother again, snuggling into his shoulder and kissing him on the cheek for the first time in his life, as Terry guessed.

When Terry went back down in the garden to join him Andy was crying freely, his shoulders moving gently, head in his hands. Terry diplomatically left him to himself for some minutes. Eventually he joined Terry, who was watching the sun come up through the palm trees.

'Thanks, Terry,' he said simply, and for Terry, that was quite enough. He was beginning to love his emotional boss.

'No probs. Can I get you a tea, sir?'

'Yes, if you can find where Mrs Fuentas keeps the English stuff. I've got to go and tell Matt, then it's Dad. What a day! But at least I'll end it with something I didn't have before, another brother who's keen on the idea of being related to me.'

The police went, to be followed by a media circus, and so the police returned. But Terry had long left by then with Jordan, to return him to a mother who still did not realise he was missing. It was left to Terry to start the explanations to the astonished Mrs Simmons, but they had to be finished by her son. Terry shook his hand before he left, and wished him luck, pointedly.

Andy persuaded his father that it was best in the circumstances that Peter stay with him for a week or so. In all the explanations, no one had mentioned the precise reason why Peter had run away from home, and maybe that was best. As Matt said, the sexuality of teenage boys was mercurial. He cited Paul as an example, and Terry gave him an old fashioned look. But he kept his opinions to himself.

Despite the siege conditions, the house was a very happy one. Matt assessed Andy's happiness by the way he hummed and sang away to himself, and the house was full of the sound of Andy's happiness by that measure. Ramon returned, slightly singed, but as much in love with Terry as ever, even after Terry shaved off his pubic hair and painted his genitals red while he was asleep. After a couple of depressed days, following the unavoidable and comprehensive roastings from his father and the state governor in person, Peter cheered up and wandered round the house happily, swimming with his brother, chatting enthusiastically with Terry and faking a British accent, annoying Sylvia, scavenging off Mrs Fuentas and helping Ramon in the garden. Terry found them one afternoon sitting against a wall sniggering together; he could have sworn that Ramon was sharing with Peter more of their sexual history than was strictly necessary or discrete. Peter would type endless e-mails to Jordan in the evening. He remained cool towards Matt, however. Andy noticed that this hurt Matt, but as Matt himself said, in other ways it was all a lot better than what it had been.

Terry was washing the Mercedes lovingly on the back apron one morning, when Peter came out looking for him. He was barefoot, wearing only a pair of shorts. Terry was impressed when the boy picked up a cloth and helped him buff up the paintwork without being asked, although it was clear enough to Terry that there was a purpose behind it all.

'Terry?'

'Yeah, Pete?'

'How long have you been gay... I mean known you were?'

'Since I was your age. Why?'

'How many guys have you... y'know done it with?'

Ah, Terry thought, I think I know where this one's going: OK, if it'll help, the boy can have the unexpurgated Anals of Terry O'Brien. 'What? Precise numbers?'

'Yeah, and I'll know if you exaggerate.'

'Ha ha! OK... let me see. My first time was wanking off with a school mate, a sort of on-off affair that went on for over a year. His was the first penis up my bum, too.'

'Way cool. You took it up the ass when you were a young teen! Jordan won't let me, and he won't do it to me, either.'

'We were ready for it, but after that we broke up and I lost the plot. I went a bit wild. There was a builder guy that did me up against the public toilet wall when I was sixteen: round the back in more ways than one, with my school trousers round my ankles, scraping me dick and me face against the brick and talking dirty. I never got his name but I call him Tiny cos he had a surprisingly small dick for such a big bloke. It still hurt though. But at least he did use a condom, I was stupid enough not to insist on them when I was that age. Then there was me next adventure at the cottage: Nasty Nick. But he don't really count, because he was a bit impatient, got violent and tried to force me into something adventurous, rather than ask nicely. I think he got off on the forcing. He had a knife. I don't react well to bullying so I twisted his nuts while I was sucking him off and ran. Never went down there again. My first fuck was with Dominic the Depressed. I met him in another set of loos when we were both looking for it. That's when I found out I was versatile... y'know, happy to fuck as much as be fucked, though I do sorta like to be underneath a well hung guy.'

'Nasty Nick. Dominic the Depressed? You can't be serious. You give them names?'

'Oh yeah. Dom was sweet but not a happy boy... I don' wanna go there, if it's all the same. Still hurts a bit.'

'OK... no problem.'

'Then there was Howard the Happy Humper, fucked me rigid for weeks before he juss disappeared, couldn't even raise him on the mobile. Married bloke, I think. Didn't care much for foreplay. In his thirties. Met him in a pub and we screwed, or rather he screwed me, in his mate's flat.'

'Then there was Simon the Smeghead. He was a kid my age I met in the cinema queue waiting to see Lord of the Rings, we really hit it off, it never happened so quick since and I wish I knew how it happened then... I sucked him off in the cinema loos while Frodo was taming Gollum. He lasted a few months, although finding places to do it with him wasn't easy as we both lived at home. We synchronised afternoons when our parents were out. He was generous was Si. He didn't mind top or bottom, so I got to fuck quite a lot rather than just be fucked. He wasn't exactly what you'd call handsome, but looks are only part of the game, and he was slim and dark and oh so funny. He blew me out for another bloke with a bigger cock and his own flat.'

'Is that why you call him a Smeghead.'

Terry laughed, 'No, though it hurt to dropped just like that, but I called him that for an entirely different reason... just say it was hygiene related and leave it at that.'

Peter looked puzzled and Terry wasn't going to enlighten him. He counted on his fingers, 'So that's five, not including Nasty Nick, and you're still in school.'

'You have been paying attention. After Simon, I left school - that was last May - and fell into a wild affair over the summer with Anthony the Acid... not a boy to everyone's taste, as he felt that actually he should have been a girl. He wanted me to call him Tina. But he was wild for being screwed, so that suited me. I got to the point when I gave notice to my parents, packed up in September and went to live with him in Swindon. It lasted just a week... God, was he a bitch, and he spent so long in the loo, I nearly burst. Jealous too. He threw a real hissy fit in a pub when he thought I was eyeing up a bloke at the bar. So I left him and went back to mum and dad. Never heard from him again.'

'Terry that's so gross, how could you... did he dress up in girls' clothes?'

'Oh yeah, he looked like one too, you'd never have known. He even had false breasts. One time early on, when we were first going out, I got fed up of his queening it around. I made him clean off all the makeup and nail varnish, and dress like a boy. He was really amazing looking in jeans and a shirt, I fancied him so much more. What a waste.'

Peter was horrified and fascinated. 'But he had a dick, did he?'

'Oh yeah, not too small either. He was saving up for the operation.'

'Terry, you're a bit sick.'

Terry laughed, 'No I'm not, I'm just open-minded.'

'Was that it?'

'Oh no, not at all. There was Axel the Hun... a German exchange student I met in a club. He was a bit different, verging on weird. He was big into gay hard-core porn. He had his collection on some industrial iPods; it was very methodical and, would you believe, cross-indexed. I think he had run a porno website back in Germany at some time. We used to watch them on his laptop in his flat while he rode my shaft or I rode his. Some of them were really heavy and weird, and he wanted me to... well, better not go there.

He picked me up cos he said I reminded him of one of the most horny boys in his collection and he thought I might get him into porn flicks. He was so keen to be in gay videos himself, and he wasn't that bad looking either. In November his friend Werner came over from Hamburg with a really cool digital camera and took lots of shots of me and Axel being extremely dissolute in his flat and in the park. I keep scanning the web hoping to see us. In fact what I did see after Christmas was him being fisted and screwed senseless by this Russian bear, so he must have got his wish. That's nearly it, apart from a bit of a wild session with a bunch of skinheads whose names I never did get - although they left me plenty of other mementos in me bodily orifices. Earned me my fifth trip to the Sexual Health Unit in the North Wiltshire Trust Hospital. Me and the receptionist had got on first name terms by now. Anyway there was Johnny and Laurie, and then I came here...'

'... and found Ramon.'

'Yep. That's my story up to date.'

'Do you think me and Jordan will last?'

'There's absolutely no way of knowing, Pete. Everybody's different, gay or straight. We've got different desires and different needs. Some people never seem to have problems, and some are really screwed up... I guess I come into that last category. Don't measure yourself against my life story whatever you do. I'm not too proud of some of the things I've done, and despite the fact that I've been so much into promiscuity considering me relative youth, it may not have been the way I was intended to be.'

'You mean that if things had gone different with your first love, you'd still be with him.'

Terry looked into the boy's penetrating blue eyes and decided that he had been underestimating the mental power and maturity of Peter Peacher. 'In one, Pete, in one,' he admitted quietly. 'That first gay love affair - I mean love, now, not sex - it's so powerful. Look at your brother and his Matt. They fell into each other's arms and interlocked for good... literally. I know they fight it sometimes, but it's the way they were supposed to be. You can envy them for it; they're two very special men and absolutely lost in each other. Who knows but that me and...'

'Who was he... your first?'

Terry shook his head. 'I don't want to talk about it, Pete. The older I get, the more it hurts.' He stretched. They'd long ago finished the car off and were leaning against the hot metal in the sunshine. 'So what's your problem with Matt?'

Peter gave him a lopsided look. 'If you'd asked me a year ago I'd have said that he was a poncy, queer Brit, who made me puke with his airs and graces.'

'Woah,' interjected Terry, 'Matt's not from any rich background, he's more common than me.'

'Yeah, I know. Anyway, I'm queer, I know that now, so who am I to be superior? Then there was Andy, who I wouldn't let into my life, the big brother I didn't want. Matt was part of that package. But now I know Andy better, and he's the best thing that happened to me for ages, he's the big brother of my dreams. He loves me, he's totally on my side and I love him.'

'Is that why you don't care for Matt? Is it because he's the part of your brother's life you can't share?'

'A rival for my brother's affections? You'd think it might be so wouldn't you, but I'm not that much of an idiot and not that selfish. No, it's something else. Terry... you mustn't tell anyone this, and I'm only telling you because you're so honest with me. He... gives me erections. I jerk off imagining Matt and Andy doing it together. There, now you think I'm sick.'

'After what you've just heard about me? Come on, Pete. No, I wank off about all sorts of things, especially Matt.'

'Serious?'

'Christ yeah. Imagine that big perfect cock head at your entry. Like being fucked by a Greek god.'

Pete grinned, 'I could get us a pair of marble dildos as a substitute.'

Terry laughed and grabbed the boy hard round his bare waist, ruffling his tangled and golden hair. Peter hugged him back and kissed his cheek, and left his head on Terry's shoulder for quite a while and held him. Terry liked it. The boy smelled really nice and fresh and he was naked but for his shorts, which were tented out with the stiff bar of an undisguised erection. Terry could feel it pressing against his thigh. Peter noticed the direction of Terry's gaze and grinned. He put his hand down the shorts and adjusted himself making sure that Terry had a good view of his shining pink glans above the waist band. He was not wearing any underpants.

Eventually, they kissed again, separated and walked up the drive together, hand in hand, speculating as to whether Matthew White actually farted, and if so whether it smelt. 'No, it's probably eau-de-cologne,' Peter said and guffawed happily. They met Matt coming round the house. Peter couldn't help grinning at him, and saying, 'Hey, Matt... how's it doing?'

'Fine, Pete. Thanks for asking.' He looked curiously after the two as they headed to the utility house, chatting happily all the way.

They booted up a laptop that Terry had borrowed and searched the web for Axel being screwed. Peter laughed hysterically at Terry's dry and candid commentary when they found some dingy free clips available for view.

Peter looked critically at Axel's body. 'You'll screw anything won't you?'

Terry laughed, 'I'm offended. What's wrong with Axel's bod?'

'He's not paunchy, true enough, but he's not buff, and his ears stick way out. He looks like a gargoyle'

'He shaved his head after he left me, so I never noticed his ears. And the tattoo round his upper arm's new too... hey, and did you see the shot of the other tattoo round his arsehole? That must have stung, but at least it's something to read when you're rimming him. But Axel's got some nice features, though a sense of humour certainly isn't one of them. His dick's really long. It's got a small cock head, like a pink bud, but when you take it up the arse a lot, like me, that can be a bit of a relief. Not everyone's a stud or a glamour gay like your Jordan. Are you only gonna screw male models? If so you ain't gonna screw many arses, believe me. Only one in a thousand guys are worth a second look, and since maybe ten guys in a hundred are inclined to be gay, that's a tiny pool of arse to trawl if you're gonna be picky.'

'So you're one in ten thousand, Terry.' Terry smiled. 'Where did you get those figures from?' Peter too was smiling broadly now, deeply amused.

'I sat on a pavement café on the High Street back home one afternoon when I was seventeen and watched the world go by. I counted the guys that gave me instant erections, and the guys that didn't. It came to 1:988. After that, I limited me ambitions and horizons. I wanted whatever I could get when I was seventeen, so I took whatever was on offer. Axel was an OK lover too. Not too rough, always up for it and, boy, could he keep that long dick of his stiff. It was like riding a truncheon.'

'You've had objects up you? Man, that's something I'd like to try.'

'Dildos, beads, enemas, mechanical fuckers, vibrators, veg... oh yeah. I've given 'em all a go, and mostly with Axel. He was very adventurous, especially where my arse was concerned. There was this time with his mate Werner when we decided to get two dicks up me at the same time...'

As Terry continued his memoirs, they both sat on his bed. Peter was rivetted, and they sat side by side with their hands in their shorts, not in the least self conscious about it.

Terry was charmed that night to find the two Peacher brothers laughing and dancing to loud music in one of the reception rooms, spinning and jiving in sync. Andy had always loved doing it, but now two small blonds were energetically hopping about the front room with identical grins. Terry observed the strong physical resemblances. He stood and applauded with Mrs Fuentas when they finished. Then Terry took the floor, much to their amazement. He was unbelievable, 'Me mum sent me for lessons from when I was four; me best A level was Dance: thought you knew that. I was the only bloke in the class. Just as well once I came out. It was on the job application I filled out for Sylvia.' That week, he began teaching Matt the classics. Terry was really good at it and Matt improved beyond all expectation.

It was a sad day when Peter had to go back and a SUV complete with security men came for him from Santa Barbara. 'Come back soon, Petey,' Andy said.

'Nobody can keep me away. I love you, bro.' They hugged, and he also hugged everyone else in the house, including Matt, who got quite tearful with Andy later.

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