J.

  xi

  "TASTE this." Iestyn stooped over the steaming pan and slurped liquid from a wooden spoon. "I wonder if it needs more seasoning." He rummaged in an overhead cupboard for a pepper mill. "Jambalaya," he said.

  "I'm sorry to hear that," Veda replied.

  "The food," said Iestyn sourly. "It's my speciality. It's Cajun." He stirred more cayenne into the chicken mixture. "The secret's in the 'trinity', onions, celery and green peppers. It's the jazz of cooking. Once you have the basic tune, you improvise."

  "What kind of sausage are you using?" she asked.

  "Jagdwurst." Iestyn reached for a glass of water.

  "Bless you," said Veda.

  "No," said Iestyn, "That's the name of my sausage. It means 'hunting sausage'."

  Veda pictured the huge J on the T-shirt beneath the Welsh Dragon on the red rugby shirt. "You're part of JASOn, aren't you? Like Jazey Joskin and Jerboa Jenneting."

  The boy stood up. "Let's go somewhere more comfortable." She followed him up the stairs to his room, which was, as far as Veda could tell:

  A typical teenage boy's bedroom.

  1. Low single bed with a duvet with a red Ferrari on the cover and a thin red-cased pillow;

  2. Fairly flimsy desk unit from a D.I.Y. store and D.I.DONE by Iestyn's Dad;

  3. Fairly flimsy bedside cabinet recovered from a second-hand shop by Iestyn'sMum;

  4. A computer and monitor, islands in a sea of computer games, magazines and floppy disks ("the only thing in my bedroom that is floppy," was jesting Iestyn's traditional comment);

  5. An array of laundry, stray socks, T-shirts, trousers, jeans, a maroon and orange school tie and a white shirt with an inky fingerprint on the collar draped over a chair back;

  6. A cluster of soggy Kleenex clinging together in the wicker-style waste-bin.

  On the walls:

  1. A small painting of a jay on one side of the window;

  2. A small painting of a jackdaw on the other;

  3. A photograph of the statue of King James II which stands outside the National Gallery not far from the site of the Jubilee Theatre

  4. A postcard of Parmigianino's Vision of Jerome (which can be seen inside the said National Gallery),

  5. A photograph of Josh Jukes and Jargo Jaconet floating in The Dead Sea;

  6. The poster from the Fortune Theatre advertising Jump or the Devil...,

  7. A second poster from the Fortune advertising The Jackdaw of Rheims;

  8. Over the bed, a poster of a boy in an orange and purple tunic kneeling on the ground, head lowered, a sword hovering over the exposed neck;

  9. And on the wardrobe door, a large poster of Plesantly Bulging looming from a skimpy red bikini;

  Veda looked at the supermodel with distaste. Iestyn followed her glance.

  "Those breasts are enormous," he remarked. "How do you s'pose she did that? Are they full of jelly or is it just air?" He grinned. "Or maybe they're really all mammary."

  Three large, framed photographs stood on the bedside cabinet. The first showed Iestyn in mid-javelin throw. He was wearing a white vest, white shorts and white trainers. No socks.

  "Your newspaper published this picture," he said. "Victory in Javelin. June 10th."

  The second showed him standing on a patch of grass near some trees. Behind his shoulder a river ran through it. He was wearing a navy wax jacket and hat, jeans and a pair of green Wellington boots. He was holding a fishing rod in one hand and an enormous fish in the other.

  "Brown trout," he said. "First time I went fly fishing. Eight pounds. Tasted great."

  The third photograph was all too familiar. A child of about eight with floppy fair hair and a broad grin sat on a beanbag, crayon in hand, Iestyn looking over his shoulder.

  "Joshing with Josh," said Iestyn.

  "Timmy Thomas Jazz Quartet," said Veda. "What's your connection? Father? Uncle?"

  "Oh," said Iestyn, "No relation. Just coincidence. Do you like my poster of St Justus of Beauvais? He was beheaded you know, but, according to Bede, his fallen head continued to praise God even as it rolled in the grass. I'm not sure if he was Roman."

  "Does it matter?" asked Veda.

  "MU," he said, smiling mysteriously.

  Veda gave up. "The other boy," she said. "What's that he's drawing?" She strained her eyes. "The bird in the cage for the cover? You can't see in the booklet, but this enlargement..."

  Her voice tailed away. The child was putting the finishing touches to a crude blue-crayoned drawing of a jumbo-jet.

  Iestyn removed the photograph from Veda's numb fingers. "I said you might find this afternoon interesting." He replaced it on top of the book by his bed, Vitriol and Jealousy: Theatre, Writing and Rivalry in the Renaissance. "This is fascinating," he said. "Do you want to borrow it?" He opened it at the place-marking train ticket. "There's an eye-witness account of the 'prentice riot and a fascinating piece by Tom Tages, the original Hieronimo. He was about my age, you know." He started to read.

  'Muche blode and furre flieing as dogges chewed and slashed. Beare clawe sharper than dogges teethe, me thinks. Wonne four shillings, then went to jubile for plaie. I am Mistress Staynesheete. Agayne. Not so good. Jacke Juggeler tore my robe when he tryed to ravyssh me in the bawdy house. Gyle will repare yt. Screemed well, methought. Lots of ayre. Jelly warme todaie. Melted and trickled downe my legs. Peple happy. Master Shakesper came by. Writing new plaie aboute King Leir. Might give me Cordelia. Went to tiring room for ale and bread and Gyle swyued me depe and kindlie as Jupiter did his Ganimede. Afterwards, to Goldyn Garter with Gyle and Will for swyving of whores. I was soore but still I made Tabby swynk and swete. She strokd Gyles' cheek but likes me better.'

  Tch. Young uns in them days.

  Ganymede, n., classical myth, a beautiful Trojan youth who was abducted by Zeus (or Deus or Jupiter or Jove) to Olympus where he became cup bearer to the gods. According to the myth, Jupiter, struck by Ganymede's beauty, came to earth in the guise of an eagle and carried him away. Consequent friction was caused between Jupiter and his wife Juno (or Hera). Ganymede was made immortal and ageless as the constellation Aquarius (Latin for water bearer).

  "I'm an Aquarian," said Iestyn Thomas. "January 25th. In Russia it's St Tatiana's Day and here the Conversion of St Paul. He persecuted a secret society and ended up joining it. The Society of Jesus, I guess you'd call it."

  JANUARY

  The month dedicated by the Romans to Janus who presided over the entrance to the year and had two faces, one to look forwards and one to look back. The Dutch called this LAUWMAAND (frosty-month) and the Saxons WULFMONATH (because wolves were particularly troublesome then). After the adoption of Christianity, the name was changed to SE ÆFTERGEOLA (After-Yule). In the French Revolutionary calendar, it was Nivôse (snowy month).

  Iestyn fingered the silver coin round his neck. "This is a jacobus, a coin from James I's time. It was a christening gift from my godfather." He turned the coin over and showed her the motto inscribed over the portrait of King James and the date 1604.

  F a c i a m ~ e o s ~ i n ~ g e n t e m ~ u n a m

  ("I will make them one people", from Ezekiel, 37. 22.)