Chapter 1

That was what Andrew got for not believing in God. She fucked with him just when he thought he could relax with Suzanne for one damn night. He stepped out of the doorway and cautiously reached out to give Ara a hug. It was warmly returned and they both held the embrace for a second more than just friends. She looked as lovely as ever, tall, long straight black hair but there was an air about her, not sad so much as weary.

“What are you doing here Andrew? I mean it is great to see you but I wasn’t expecting to meet you coming out of the local off-licence.”

“I live here now Ara, just along the road there.”

A vague wave could have meant anywhere.

“Are you back up here already?”

“Final year Andrew, I was only home for 10 days or so. I want to get a First and be accepted for a great PhD program so I am putting the hours in.”

There was an awkward lull in the conversation.

“What about you?”

“I am leaving tomorrow, although College doesn’t start for another 10 days. I am staying with friends in Dorset or it might be Hampshire, I need to check, and then in Sussex, maybe. I am not really sure, but I am staying with two different friends in places in southern England.”

He shrugged.

“Em, what are you doing for dinner Andrew?”

“I am getting a takeout.”

“I was going to do the same. Would you like to come over to my place?”

“Go in and get whatever you were here for and I will walk with you. We can talk about it then.”

One minute later Ara was out with a bottle of wine. They started walking down the road, close but not quite touching.

“Ara, you know I would love to spend time with you. But all we end up doing is torturing ourselves. What is the point of rekindling feelings that we know can go nowhere.”

She sighed but didn’t contradict him.

“I know Andrew, I know, it is just.”

Exactly. Andrew didn’t even need to get into the issue of Suzanne waiting at the house. They stopped at the Chinese takeout, placed their orders and waited mostly in silence until they were ready. Andrew walked Ara over to the end of her street.

“I would love to come up and chat with you Ara, you know that. But all that is going to happen is we will end up being unhappy and it will disrupt university. I wish it was not the case but it is so I am going to leave you here.”

There was nothing left to say, she was still the perfect woman. Smart, sexy, vulnerable, brilliant, funny and completely unavailable. With a final long hug Andrew turned away and walked sadly back to his flat. The perfect coda to this utterly confusing holiday. That confusion carried over to the bedroom, it felt wrong to be making passionate love to Suzanne, yet at the same time it felt right, both physically and emotionally. The last week in Edinburgh had been very passionate but also skimming along the surface, there had been no meaningful conversations like they had at the start of the break. One more thing that needed to be resolved. Unsurprisingly Andrew needed to sleep on the train in the morning after a fitful night’s sleep. He was not refreshed when he got to King’s Cross but at least he wasn’t tired and grumpy. Andrew crossed the city to Waterloo, waited 90 minutes for a train on the Saturday service and finally got off at Grateley station in West Hampshire. Nigel lived in the oddly, yet wonderfully, named village of Palestine. He was at the station.

“Does all your mail go the Middle East?”

“Shut up, there is nothing you can say that we haven’t heard a thousand times already. It is like Pedro and the Spanish Armada, just let it go.”

The four nights and three days in west Hampshire were fine. Away from everyone, no insanity around every corner. Nigel and his mum made Andrew feel welcome and it was typical semi-rural England, small village with a pub. There was even a fierce feud with the neighbouring village. Mrs. Black-Gilchrist, ran a cattery of all things using a double length garage at the side of the house with the cat equivalent of a huge chicken run attached at the side. It was noisy during the day but the sound-proofing in the garages was good so it was quiet at night. Andrew did get the sense that Mrs. Black-Gilchrist talked to the cats a lot during term time. It was also good to spend some time with Nigel. From the meeting on the first day they had got on well, although they were not as close as some of the other friendships on the corridor. Nigel came across as quiet and diffident but alone and when talking about comedy and performing he came out of his shell.

“I have done three auditions already without getting a part. Which at the time was disappointing. But I have started to help write some of the reviews. So far it is limited, just an occasional line, a turn of phrase, one of my ideas was used, although it was written by some of the others, but it is a start. Most of the people who perform and have become well known, they have written a lot of material. So I am not discouraged, it feels like an apprenticeship.”

“Do you enjoy performing on stage?”

“Yes, but not in regular plays. That is why I am in Footlights rather than the Amateur Dramatic Club. And the chance to write something that makes people laugh, that really appeals. Ideally, I would be the one on stage delivering the lines, but if it means I have to write, learn what is funny, see what works, and what doesn’t, then I will do that. The quality is so high there, it stops you thinking that life is unfair. Plus when you look at the photos on the wall you put your head down and shut up.”

The alumni of the Footlights Club were a veritable who’s who of British television and film for the last 20 years. Leslie and Julian had mentioned to him they had seen the Footlights during the Festival Fringe in Edinburgh over the summer. They were now a fixture at the Fringe and so Nigel was aiming high with his writing and performing ambitions. But letting Nigel talk through all that meant that Nigel dominated long stretches of Andrew’s time in Hampshire. But after everything that happened in Edinburgh he was fine to play second fiddle, and listen and occasionally comment rather than lead the conversation. It wasn’t all the time but it was good not to be ‘on’. Andrew couldn’t swim and didn’t run far so for him it wasn’t completely a relaxing break. He was still up early, it was too engrained a habit to break, and so he would study for a couple of hours every morning before Nigel faced the day. The three days were perfect, any longer and he would have started to talk to the cats like Nigel’s mother, but it let everything in Edinburgh recede into the background.

On the Wednesday morning Mrs. Black-Gilchrist loaded them into her Volvo estate car, Nigel with a fraction of his term one luggage, and they drove off over to Justin’s parent’s place. They were now in full rural England, in the village of Balcombe in Sussex. It was on the London to Brighton railway and although deep in farm country was mainly a commuter village, as Justin’s dad showed. The three days there were as low key as at Nigel’s. The Adams’ had a lot of space and the three of them spent two days down on the coast annoying each other for fun and generally goofing off. Judy was hardly mentioned at all, they were mature and kind and didn’t bug Justin about her at all. Yeah right.

It was exactly the kind of week that Andrew needed, a holiday after his holiday. Nothing happened, they stayed up late chatting about nothing of consequence, university, the holiday, footie, it was great and he realised that he needed it. Andrew felt recharged and was grateful for the break in his routine and escaping the cumulative baggage of his time in Edinburgh. With them he was Andrew, the Scottish engineering student. His most interesting tale was painting Helena’s dad as a bit of an anti-Scottish bigot. Come Saturday morning they all managed to get into the Adams’ Land Rover and made the two and a half hour journey to Cambridge. This time, being in the front as usual, the journey was a blast. Bill Adams had a fount of interesting tales from his time in the art world and spent the whole journey taking advantage of the fact his wife was not beside him to tell highly amusing tales about sugar daddies buying expensive trinkets for their younger mistresses. Andrew thought Mrs. Adams was entertained as the rest of them but felt she shouldn’t encourage him.

By 1.00 they were all in their rooms, no help needed from anybody this term, and the Adams’ were on their way back to Sussex. The three of them knocked on doors but no one was in, so went to grab a late lunch. Emma, Helena and Abigail were there already but huddled with a bunch of other female students. Andrew waved but didn’t sit with them, there would be plenty time to catch up with them later. He had exercised and run all week but had been unable to swim, so as soon as lunch was over Andrew returned to his room and grabbed his swim gear. Heeding the old dictum of not swimming on a full stomach he slow walked to the pool before swimming for 60 minutes at a steady pace. Andrew could feel it in his arms by the end but it was a good ache. When he got back to his room he left the door open and waited, it was time to have some fun. He was playing Oxygene by Jean-Michel Jarre, just lying on his bed relaxing, his surprise was already on the desk. Sure enough within 10 minutes there was a knock on the door frame and Helena came into the room. Slamming the door behind her she jumped on Andrew and kissed him soundly. He immediately started pulling her shirt up and the kissing stopped in a hurry.

“Andrew!”

“You can’t drape your hot little body all over me like that and expect to keep your clothes on.”

Andrew stood up and pulled his own shirt over his head and started to unbuckle his belt.

“Andrew, stop it, hell now I am all horny you bastard.”

Laughing he pulled Helena in, lifted her up, his hands on her bum and kissed her soundly. The only sound was J-MJ on the boom box. Slowly lowering her to the ground he smiled and picked his shirt up off the floor.

“Did you miss me Helena, all those cold winter nights? Someone to ignite your passions, a warm body to drape yourself over after a torrid, orgasm filled, evening of rampant sex?”

The whacks this time were long and repeated, but he deserved every one of them.

“You are such a shit. There was me feeling bad about the way Dad treated you and what do you do. Leave me needing to go and take a cold shower to calm down.”

Now that the teasing was over they chatted away, talked about the holidays, just babbling away. Suddenly Helena stopped in mid-sentence and looked at his desk. She turned to him before jumping up and grabbing the enlarged picture off the desk. There in full colour was the picture of Andrew with the Duke and Duchess of Roxburghe in front of Floors Castle. There was a comedy sequence as she kept looking at the picture and then at him and then back at the picture as if it would magically transform to someone else. Her laughter was unexpected but contagious. Finally she looked at him but said nothing.

“I met them at a New Year’s Eve party I was invited to. It was comical Helena. I actually had to ask what I was supposed to call her, I had no idea. Jane apparently.”

Helena eyebrows shot up.

“No really. Anyway, through a mutual acquaintance I was invited to visit Floors Castle the following week. I told the story of your dad’s pride in being distantly related to the Duke and it was him that suggested the photo.”

Andrew thought he would tweak her just a little.

“Guy is a nice man.”

That was the last straw.

“Guy! Guy! You didn’t call the Duke of Roxburghe Guy.”

He laughed and held her hands in case more whackings were to be administered.

“No I didn’t call him Guy. Although he did introduce himself as Guy Innes-Ker to me.”

“Alright Andrew, please be serious, how do you know the Duke?”

Andrew could tell he was vexing her immensely.

“Well if you had just taken your clothes off when I asked I would have told you.”

“Andrew!”

“Okay, I’ll stop teasing you. I tutored a girl while I was at school, I got her through an exam she had failed the year before. Her father is a lawyer in Edinburgh and he has always been grateful to me for helping her pass. I ran into him over the holiday and he invited me to his house for a party at New Year. It was a more high class event than I was anticipating. The Duke went to Cambridge, Magdalene, and so invited me down the following week to reminisce. He had a meeting with Jim and I tagged along, got shown round the place, had lunch with them and got my picture taken. Just lucky circumstances Helena.”

Helena looked at Andrew for a long time before ruefully shaking her head.

“Can you imagine what Dad would say if he saw this? Did she really tell you to call her Jane?”

He nodded.

“There was her, a Countess and a Lady, all together. I did have to ask what to address the Duchess and the Countess, I had managed to work out what to call the Lady. That was when she asked me to call her Jane, and the Countess said to call her Fiona. I don’t think I actually used their names I just didn’t drop in as many ‘your graces’ as I should have.”

“I should have come to Edinburgh with you rather than you come to stay with me.”

Andrew had a sudden vision of Helena and Suzanne in his bed together. Under greedy bastard in the dictionary...

“Come on let’s go and get some dinner, I am not going to say anything about meeting the Duke but I don’t care if you share the story. I haven’t told Nigel or Justin.”

Now Helena knew how to hold the floor, and her resolution to not tell the tale lasted about a course and a half. By the time she was done Andrew was sure her dad could have heard their laughter. After dinner he was bombarded with questions, mostly variations on how did he know the Duke.

“I turned up at a party thinking I would show face for a little bit and then head off into town. So I am being dragged round the room being introduced to a bunch of people I don’t know and will never meet again when I come face to face with three women. The wife of a judge, Lady Wylie, the wife of an Earl, the Countess of Inchcape, and the Duchess of Roxburghe. I could hardly turn and run away, could I?”

They all considered that for a second but then continued piling on. It was good natured and if he wasn’t prepared to take shit over it he would not have shown Helena the picture. They stayed in the College Bar all night and it was a night of entertaining stories from the holidays. Andrew’s moment in the sun had passed and he gladly let others recount their tales of glory or woe. There were lots of stories of hook ups with friends from back home who went to different universities. There was a lot of discussion about the relative merits of universities in bigger cities. Leeds, Manchester and the London Colleges all had a solid party reputation. The lack of a music scene at Cambridge was particularly commented on.

After a normal Sunday morning routine Andrew was at Addenbrooke’s at 10.50, nervous despite having been there all the previous term. After five weeks away a lot of the patients were new but there were still some that he recognised. He had a list of chores they wanted help with but then he pushed the trolley with the lunch trays for the orderly and got a chance to say hi to everyone. There was no sit down that first day, too much to do and a lot of the children were tentative. He did not enquire about any of the children, better to think that they all recovered than confront the truth. The only patient Andrew asked about was the son of the guy he recognised from Peggy’s Café, Ron. There was a chance he would run into him and wanted to make sure he didn’t put his foot in it.

“He made it through Christmas and New Year, he was a fighter that one, but I am afraid he passed away on Friday. We got word from the hospice.”

Andrew lowered his head and saw the father’s face.

“Why him Andrew?”

“I see his father in town a lot of mornings, I just wanted to make sure I didn’t say the wrong thing. Thank you for letting me know.”

Other than calling his Grandma from the library it was a quiet afternoon there. Nobody was around for dinner so Andrew ended up sitting with three post grads and letting them do the majority of the talking. Sitting with them made him realise that he learned a lot from these evenings. Now he didn’t have any need to know the mating habits of Arctic Tern or some such thing but it was an interesting insight into what was being researched there at the College. He had found out about the beach at Morar from one such evening. The bar was in full swing when Andrew went past but after the week with Nigel and Justin and the previous night he was done for a few days. By the time the course resumed on Thursday he felt like he knew the material. Andrew knew he would do well with the Maths and especially the Computer Science so was feeling confident as the next term of labs and lectures started.

On the Tuesday night Helena had come over to his room and they had spent the night in bed, chatting away while recovering. Helena had put the moves on a couple of ex-boyfriends over the break with limited success according to her dismissive chat. As Leslie had said five years earlier, guys are happy to stick their dick in a woman’s mouth but most of them were unwilling to return the favour. It amazed Andrew and he could not understand the reluctance. To lie between a woman’s thighs, lapping away at her juices was intoxicating to him. It is such a physical act, the arse, the legs, the hips, the stomach, the pussy itself, all are involved in the act of eating a woman. To have woman, back arched, thighs crushing his head, was such an intimate act. Due to his height regular sex with either partner on top often made it impossible for Andrew to kiss the woman. So while most people would consider fucking someone more of an intimate act than eating them, he always found the latter much more intimate. Helena was tasted twice that evening, the first time as part of their usual foreplay but the second time was an exercise in teasing and frustration for her. Andrew worked to bring Helena right to the boil without ever giving her that needed release. When his fingers attacked her g-spot relentlessly she screamed into the pillow before pushing him away to recover. When they were finally done and the second condom was tied and in the trash can Helena lay with her back to him, head in the crook of his arm and his other hand holding her breast. The final words of the night from both of them were ‘Hmmm’.

The contrast to the previous evening could not have been starker the next day, a cold miserable Wednesday morning. When Andrew had gone to the café on the Monday morning he overheard several of Ron’s co-workers talking about the news of his son’s death and that the funeral was on the Wednesday. Andrew didn’t know why he thought he should go, he was not religious and didn’t know the family. He would not go to any wake afterwards, but it just seemed the right thing to do. It was the day before classes started and so he went. The only other funeral Andrew had ever been at was Faith’s very nearly five years earlier. The church was busy but not full and he was able to sit in the back corner, out of the way, trying to be unobtrusive, always a lost cause at his height. The service dragged on, speaking for himself the minister brought Andrew no comfort, but at a time like that maybe it was what they needed. The family followed the coffin out and then the rest of the mourners filed out into a cold winter’s day. As Andrew walked back to College he found he was able to distance himself from the situation, and he don’t know whether that was a good thing or a bad thing; but it was a necessary thing. That evening as the team warmed up he told them what his tutor had mentioned before the break.

“Really, I know a couple of girls at Newnham and they know about our toast, they just think we are idiots.”

“Yes, but the Principal of the College thinks we are being sexist, she has complained to the Master.”

“He is not going to send us to the Dean over a stupid comment, is he?”

The Dean was in charge of discipline.

“Dr. Wakefield said we should try and take the sting out of it before it gets worse. Offer to play a charity match against them, men against women.”

The following 10 minutes were an interesting insight into the psyche of the average British male. There was overconfident bluster ‘we will crush them, we are men they are women’ sort of thing, there were those who were worried about the consequences ‘what if we lose to a bunch of women’, and there was a lot of general chat about everyone needing to get a sense of humour. The coach had kept quiet just letting them talk this through.

“I have told Wakefield I will apologise to the Principal, it was me that came up with the phrase, but why not have some fun with this? The Master has also had complaints about our attitude and conduct from some of the Colleges, we have a good laugh, don’t take the game or ourselves too seriously. Let’s set up the match, winner pays for dinner and have a fun day. What do we care? The firsts will give us shit but when does that matter?

“Maybe we can offer to rub ointment on their bruises after the game?”

With that classy comment the training session started and Zach, the guy with friends at Newnham, was tasked with organising the event. That lasted three days before both Colleges got involved and it became a big production. But that first week they were just trying to get the whole thing to blow over.

Life in second term was much busier than in term one mostly due to the OTC. Term one was tame compared to the expectations of term two. It was a continuation of the basic training from term one, there was drill, just in case they had forgotten how to march, evenings on radio procedures, map reading, weapon maintenance and cleaning as well as marksmanship, first aid, camouflage, everything. Andrew struggled at times to remember all of the courses that were crammed into the term. There was an underlying emphasis on leadership and command but that was to be the main focus of training in second year and thereafter. The Army wanted them as at least competent soldiers before allowing them to proceed to that training. The term one activities had been at the TA Centre, other than the weekend at Salisbury Plain, whereas now they were to be assessed putting that training into action. Initially Andrew thought that there would be only one weekend of training but as it turned out there were four scheduled. To qualify for the leadership training first they had to demonstrate military competence which meant there was lots of weekends scheduled in a large training area in Norfolk, roughly 50 miles away. So Andrew was going to miss half the hockey games and have to reschedule a lot of volunteering.