Chapter 8

The swim provided no answers but did relax him. Andrew headed into town to play tourist, wile away the day, just enjoy the summer. He people watched again, outdoors this time, at Covent Garden that afternoon. Lots of pretty girls but that day, his worries about leadership and the feelings of old Andrew had spilled over. Sometimes when Andrew was on his own in a new location his inherent shyness would take over. Despite the swim he was out of sorts. Best just to watch the world and think about what to do for a couple of days. As he sat and leafed through the guidebook, Andrew laughed at himself, he really was turning into a middle aged tourist. The Tower of London, St. Paul’s and a west end show!

Andrew put the book away and got back to the people watching. Then he heard them. Loud, slightly drunk Americans, fulfilling the stereotype. He watched as they tried to find a space for the seven of them. There were two couples and three women, five or six of them were doing all the braying but the one that caught his eye was the quiet one. Not full on embarrassed but giving off an aura of shame. It was she that got them to the table two in front of his own. He as usual was at the back against the wall, enjoying the shade and not standing out. They were at the front of the patio, prominent both in location and volume. Quiet girl and one of the guys went into the bar to get the drinks leaving the rest to ‘entertain’ that part of the square. Andrew waited until the guy came out with some of the drinks before heading up to the bar himself. Quiet girl was putting her wallet away as Andrew indicated to the barman he wanted another pint. As she looked over, and then up, at him Andrew smiled and nodded before heading back to his seat. He was never a player at the best of times but trying to engage one out of a group of seven was well beyond his limited chat up skills. But she looked over at him as she walked out to her group’s table and Andrew smiled again. He then watched them come and go to the bar several more times, getting louder and louder as the afternoon turned to early evening. Then one of the couples got into a right old shouting match and with much drama the group splintered. Who cares who went where and why, all that mattered was that one minute quiet girl was sitting at the edge of a group of seven, and the next she was alone at a table full of empties. She was also looking relieved and not doing much to hide it. Andrew surprised himself by being so bold.

“Hi, you look like you could do with a drink, a seat in the shade and some quiet conversation. Can I buy you a drink?”

Thistle smooth Andrew, thistle smooth. But with a smile she accepted.

“Vodka tonic with lots of ice please.”

She sat at his table while Andrew went to the bar wondering what he was doing. Then he remembered he was a teenage boy and got over himself. When he returned her air was more relaxed and contented.

“Here you go, my name is Andrew by the way.”

She shook his hand.

“Judith, but everyone calls me Judy. As you could tell I am American. Where are you from?”

And so it began, the gentle dance of questions and answers, talking, listening, deciding whether the person was vaguely interesting, wondering their impression of you. Andrew explained he was from Scotland but shifted the story to just taking some time off after school and spending a couple of days in London. Trying to explain the CCF or Army Cadets was too tiring. Judy was 21 years old and had already completed two years of a course in Art History. She had taken a year off, it seemed there was a story there but they moved on smoothly, and she was thinking of extending her time in Europe by studying for a year abroad. That was the reason she was in the UK. Of the rest of the group of six, she knew only one person, one of the guys who was her cousin. She didn’t throw them all under the bus completely but what wasn’t said was louder than what was.

“So where are you thinking of studying, here in London?”

“Possibly, but I have interviews at several other universities. In fact, I have an interview with a professor at Cambridge on Tuesday and another with a professor at Oxford on Friday. I am leaning towards one of those two, obviously.”

“Obviously? I would have thought that London would be the preferred choice, but I know nothing about the study of Art History.”

They talked back and forth about the different courses and professors.

“Where are you going to university Andrew?”

He smiled.

“Trinity College, Cambridge reading Engineering.”

“So I will get an unbiased opinion as to where I should study then?”

She was laughing at the situation as well.

“Even worse, I turned down London when I picked Cambridge and never even considered Oxford.”

He noticed the time and his stomach growled as if on cue.

“Do you have plans for dinner with your cousin and his friends? Because if not, would you like to have dinner with me?”

“I have no plans for dinner, and frankly I need a break from those guys. Where would you like to eat?”

They decided to wander and chance it. Neither of them were fussy as to what they had so it was a wander through the theatre district doing the restaurant equivalent of window shopping.

“I knew you were tall when I saw you at the bar but walking beside you is giving me a crick in the neck.”

Judy was maybe a foot shorter than him with a plain face. Then you got closer and realised that when she smiled and her eyes sparkled she was transformed into a very pretty woman. Her body was firm although she was slight, with modest curves and thin legs.

“I get it the other way, always bending over or bending down. I have never found an art historian who played basketball.”

She stood on her tiptoes and got to 5’6”. Andrew stood behind her and lifted her high into the air. She squealed and told him to put her down.

“I wanted you to see life from up here.”

Said as he dropped her gently on her feet again.

“When you are my height” which was about standard for adult females “being up there is an odd perspective.”

Judy looked pensive as they walked down Shaftesbury Avenue.

“Would you do me a favour?”

Andrew nodded.

“If I can sure, what?”

“Can we walk through Soho please? I want to see the area but it is a bit seedy and I would prefer to have someone with me.”

“Sure, I don’t mind. I have never been to Soho, where is it?”

She looked at him as if he was taking the piss.

“We are right here Andrew. You didn’t know?”

Andrew looked around and she rolled her eyes.

“It is the area on the right. I can’t believe that you didn’t know where Soho is.”

He shrugged looking a bit embarrassed.

“I had heard of it but just like I have heard of Times Square, I have no idea where it is.”

“I suppose, it is the red light district, full of strip clubs and prostitutes and I assumed a young man would want to know about such things.”

Andrew laughed.

“Maybe you can explain why a young lady wants to see such things.”

Judy blushed bright red and they turned right onto Wardour Street and she got to take her walk on the wild side. There were places selling sex all over the place. Red lights in doorways, sex shops, some clean and inviting, most not; strip clubs, promising a lot, but from the outside at least going to do nothing but disappoint. They didn’t talk much and Andrew just let her soak it all up. Judy had taken hold of his arm, almost unconsciously, and although she was eyed up several times, no one made any comments and the way she described it, seedy rather than unsafe, seemed appropriate. On her own or late at night would be a different story but in the evening summer sun it was harmless. Soho is a maze of small streets and alleys and they wandered backwards and forwards before suddenly popping out within sight of Piccadilly Circus. Tourist central mere steps from hookers and strip clubs.

“So now that you have channelled your inner Lou Reed, are you ready for some dinner?”

Judy laughed and let go his arm.

“Thank you for that. I have been more than a bit sheltered by Mum and Dad and I wanted to get a chance to see somewhere like that without word getting back to them. There is nowhere like this in Providence.”

She had told him she was a student at Brown University in Rhode Island.

“Sure, but never having been outside the UK other than a trip to France at the age of six, I will have to take your word for it.”

They chatted away until they found a steak house on Haymarket and then took up their previous conversation once they were seated.

“You were oddly, I don’t know, passive, unmoved by all the semi dressed women, either in real life or on posters that we saw. Why?”

“It was all very, I don’t know, fake? When I am with a woman I like to talk to them, just like we are doing now, understand them. Personally I need to have a connection with someone to take anything beyond talking. Maybe that will change, I am barely 18 but my experience so far is that way. Other than one person all of the women I have gone out with have been very intelligent, and even the exception was clever, if not in a book sense way.”

“So you don’t go and talk to women based on their bodies?”