Chapter 5

There were two cadets standing by the gates talking quietly, although on that still night, not quietly enough. They were on notional sentry duty, notional as the Cambridge University Officers Training Corp were in the middle of Norfolk inside an Army training base; but the training staff made the new cadets each take a four hour guard stint over the course of the year. That night it was Sherard and another cadet Andrew didn’t know. But what chilled Andrew was Sherard bragging about what he had done. Arthur Sherard was bragging about rape. The phrase that chilled Andrew to his core?

“To hear her cry for me to stop while you held her, what rubbish. She had been after me to fuck her all year.”

There was further chat but nothing registered after that. Arthur Sherard was bragging about raping a woman who was crying for him to stop while his accomplice held her down. Now Andrew thoroughly disliked Sherard and had done since early in the year. But this was beyond mere dislike. He walked back to the barracks but stood in the shadow of the wall, his mind racing. Andrew wanted to do something but he did not know what. There was no one else around, it had been sheer chance that he was outside peeing against a tree when he overheard the pair of them. So there were no corroborating witnesses and the two of them were guilty so would stick up for each other. So what was he supposed to do?

How long Andrew stood quietly in the shadow of the barrack wall thinking about what he had heard? A long time but he was stuck. His instinct to trust that justice would prevail and to go and talk to the Commanding Officer of the unit died quickly. The Army did not want to know, and without anything other than Andrew’s word he knew that it would be brushed aside, just as the original complaint had been. Andrew lay on his bunk, sleep eluding him, wondering whether there was anything he could do. He had heard someone confess to a crime but there was no conceivable way to deal with it. Even if the Army were remotely interested in dealing with the issue, it was still his word against two others. Not forgetting the fact that uncle was a General.

What happened the rest of the weekend was a blur. All Andrew could remember was that he struggled with his whole morale framework of right and wrong and his belief in rules, or the rules. Again, this reads as severely naïve but it was important. It was another moment in his life where his innocent beliefs were stripped away. This was a key one and maybe the most important one of all. Andrew was too trusting, too ready to believe in truth and fairness. When he thought about it Andrew was not trusting at all, and when he thought about fairness all he had to think about was Faith, or every Monday evening. He resigned himself to the fact that there was nothing he could do. It wasn’t something he was proud of, or happy about, but it was the sad reality. On the short journey back to Cambridge that cold Sunday February night what he had learned the previous evening Andrew mentally buried. This had to be like a tough evening at Addenbrooke’s, pushed down to allow him to function the next day. It was easy to think it, but he wasn’t sure that living with it would be as easy.

And he was challenged as soon as he got back to his room to discover Helena there. His friend who had become the incoming Vice President of the Student Union in part because of the treatment of women in exactly this situation. It was a mess, and almost entirely in his mind. Andrew slept terribly, which just made Monday even worse. An OTC weekend away, a shit night’s sleep and then a full day of classes followed by Addenbrooke’s that night. Andrew didn’t so much sleep that Monday night as pass out.

The rest of the week he felt he was on autopilot. Engineering was easy, he worked hard as usual and it did not affect the quality of his work. But outside class Andrew was a confused mess. He wanted to talk to someone else about it, get a different perspective. But as Helena lay against him on Wednesday night Andrew couldn’t find the words to explain to her.

Thursday morning before he returned to his room he called Freya. That Andrew was calling at 7.55 in the morning on a random Thursday let her know that something was amiss. He asked if he could come and stay that weekend as he needed to talk to her about something that was troubling him. He would get the train down on Saturday morning and stay with her and Jim for just the one night. As soon as Andrew had a plan he felt better. After all these years there was definitely a Pavlovian response within him; to have a plan made him feel better. Thursday and Friday were much better while at the same time there was a sense of everything being on hold until he could talk to someone, in this case Freya.

11.00 on Saturday morning saw the two of them on the familiar circuit round Regent’s Park. Andrew spoke for close to an hour, going through everything, Helena’s outrage at the way someone had been treated earlier in the year, his dealings with Sherard up to and including the previous month and then the rape and Sherard’s subsequent bragging about it. Finally Andrew talked about his struggles to deal with it and the challenge of being ‘normal’ while this ate away at him. Freya had listened patiently and quietly while he did this major brain dump.

“I can imagine that this has shaken some ideals.”

He was surprised her first response had nothing to do with the actual assault itself.

“Don’t look so surprised Andrew. Over the course of a week you have gone through a slew of emotions and how you are feeling now, what you have to deal with now, is your new normal. Nothing we are going to talk about today, nothing I am going to say or tell you will change that. A terrible thing has happened, the culprit is going to get away with it and you know this. So how are you going to deal with this and what are you going to do?”

It wasn’t aggressive or antagonistic but there was no sugar coating. Freya let Andrew hum, haw and generally come across as clueless for a few minutes before taking pity on him.

“Andrew, take a step back from the actual event that has triggered this. You talked about being close to the Chelsea Barracks bombing. Imagine if it had been two IRA terrorists that you had overheard. You still would not be able to do anything about what you heard. But those men killed two people. How would you deal with that?”

“I could go to the police. The police want the public to give them tip-offs. But the Army want nothing to do with this. It would be swept under the carpet immediately.”

They walked in silence for several seconds before Freya continued.

“Is it because of who the perpetrator is that has got you so out of sorts?”

A lock clicked in his mind.

“Particularly the lack of remorse, the sense of entitlement, is that it?”

Just as when something lifted a karmic weight Andrew didn’t know he was shouldering, so it was the same feeling. He had fought people, survived cancer, been close to being blown up, and none of it affected him the way this had. The unsettling feeling was driven by Arthur Sherard getting away with it. What the hell did that mean going forward. Freya took pity on him.

“You have been always been very clear with your dislike, bordering on hatred, for what you call takers. This Sherard sounds like an archetypal taker. One of the ways that a person that you define as a taker can also be described is someone who doesn’t believe the rules apply to them. Especially a smug flaunting of the rules. So although you were, and are, upset at the rape of this young women it is the identity of the perpetrator that is key. And he is only a representation of that kind of person. Sure Sherard is a dislikable person but it is that whole segment of society that annoys you. You have an inherent sense of fairness, an almost innocent belief in right and justice.”

“That’s a nice way of saying I am naïve. Which is okay because I had come to that conclusion on my own.”

Freya smiled.

“At least you have realised that. Look Andrew, you have to learn how to deal with this. Look around you, life is full of things that are unfair. What you have to do is decide how you are going to mentally and emotionally deal with it. You will have certain triggers, such as those people you describe as takers, but how you deal with those triggers is up to you. How are you going to respond, how are you going to deal with this?

“Let me turn it back on you. You told Jim and I about the guy in the room under you in College. You described him as a standard university leftie, happy being unhappy about the world. You went past him in your OTC uniform and he made some comment. Maybe people in uniform, members of the armed forces are his trigger. You said he is a serial demonstrator, so he is doing something with his beliefs. You don’t have to agree with him but he sees something that he disagrees with and is trying to change it. And this has nothing to do with how you try and change something or whether you are successful. If you don’t like a situation then try and change it. That is what the political process is, the legal process, campaigning for and against parts of society. What you are trying to deal with is human nature and that is much harder. There will always be takers, people who don’t think the rules apply to them. So in your instance, one of the ways you could make a difference is by making sure that the rules are applied equally to everyone.”

Andrew never knew if Freya consciously manipulated him to end up at that point but regardless of intent the end result was fundamental to the rest of his life. They walked for a quarter of the park without saying anything. Freya had known what she was doing when she used the phrase ‘making a difference’ and so she was content to let the big old brain work through everything that she had told him. For Andrew a lot of the time was thinking through how he, as an individual, could make society, life, things fairer. When he first thought about it, his initial mental doodlings, it seemed preposterous and pretentious. But countering that was raising £30m to fund research to find a cure for cancer, and Andrew had done that. Oh well, he swam six days a week so had plenty of time to think about all this. They had passed London Zoo when Freya spoke for the first time in nearly 30 minutes.

“Have you thought about work this summer Andrew?”

Andrew had. At the end of the previous summer he had talked to Suzanne about being more careful about not just blinding accepting something. And that was his issue. Edinburgh to him was Suzanne, more than his family, more than all his friends, it was the flat they had bought together, the flat they ostensibly lived in together, it had been with Suzanne. He didn’t want to spend 10 weeks in the flat on his own. He didn’t even know if he would get to have a conversation with her before the end of the third term.

“Yes I have. If I apply to the Ministry of Defence will I be assigned to the Police again?”

“Absolutely. The reason I bring it up is that the Chief Constable made the point of asking about you.”

Andrew looked skeptical.

“Don’t look like that Andrew. The forces are starting to computerise more extensively and having someone who is comfortable around computers would be an asset. There is a lot of training going to be needed not just with the service men and women using computers but also those, such as the Police, who have to be able to scrutinise their work.”

Andrew thought about the previous summer and his more relaxed and confident demeanour that year. He would be lying to say that he was not pleased to be asked back. It was gratifying to be wanted. He was a better soldier as a result of the summer work. Leadership and command wasn’t just innate, it could be learned.

“That is nice to hear Freya. Yes, I will reapply to the Ministry summer student program this year.”

Freya of course had a form waiting back at the flat which he duly completed. He heard back at the start of Easter Term and did not even have to attend an interview. There was an update form to complete for his security clearance but the whole process was just paperwork and without drama. What Andrew did not fully realise at the time was the deliberate framing of her question so soon after her talk with him about making a difference. Freya talked about making a difference and then mentioned working for the police. The acorn had fallen.

Jim and Freya had plans for the evening already so Andrew left the flat at 4.30 and headed into the city. After swimming at Marshall Street he made the short walk over to Covent Garden, reversing the route he and Judy had taken a couple of years previously. Having been in both Hamburg and Amsterdam in the last year, Soho was; the comparisons or metaphors are meaningless. Soho was not like either of those places. But Soho was also not just strip clubs and sex shops. What Andrew noticed as he walked, and what he had no recollection of two years previously, were the variety of non sex-related businesses. His instinctive dismissal of Soho had to be tempered with the realisation that it was more than sex shops. Andrew slowed his pace and took his time looking at the area. There was an arty vibrancy to the area, something to which he struggled to comprehend. Having a well acknowledged soul of an engineer, Soho seemed so alien to him. He would need Andrea or Flo or Deborah to lead him round the area, to fully appreciate it. He smiled as he thought about how Andrea would love to try and shock him or make him uncomfortable in an area like this.

Andrew didn’t meticulously go up and down every street but he did meander and double back several times. He got himself twisted round and walked north rather than south and ended up almost back where he started, at the base of Carnaby Street. The last half of that walk there had been no sex businesses, or if there were any they were much more discreet. As he came out onto Shaftesbury Avenue, his and Judy’s jumping off point last time, it was as if he had left a very different and self-contained part of London. Andrew knew where he would be spending some time that summer. Although wandering round Covent Garden seemed so vanilla after walking through Soho, it was also more familiar and comfortable. Andrew didn’t stand out so much, was more confident that he could hold a conversation there than half a mile further west.

Andrew’s plan for the evening? He had no idea, he was just trying to be 19 and not spend Saturday night in the flat studying. He hoped to find a small venue with live music, nothing fancy but just a couple of pints of beer and taking a chance on the band. He ended up in the Rock Garden Club which he found out about by eavesdropping on a group at the bar where he had grabbed some dinner. When they left he not so discretely followed them and ended up in the basement club right there on the piazza in Covent Garden. The band were unmemorable but it brought a sense of missing this in his life. As Andrew walked back to the Tube at the end of the night he started to consider whether he should bring the car down for third year. Having transport to London and, most importantly, back home would open up a whole new range of opportunities. It was something to think about.

The following morning he was outside St. Columba’s when the service was over and met up with Jim and Freya and took them to lunch before returning to Cambridge. It was good to catch up with them both and to be parented a little bit.

“When will we see you again?”

“I am not sure to be honest. There are two weeks of term left and then five weeks of the Easter break. I have the final OTC training weekend next weekend with the big annual bash the weekend after. I think I will stay and study in Cambridge until the end of the first week and then head up to Scotland on the Friday. I have Julian’s stag do on the 23^rd and then Leslie and his wedding the week after. I have residency the week before term starts and will be back at Cambridge to study. So I have the two weeks either side of Easter. If it is alright with you I may come down here before returning to Cambridge.”

“Andrew, you know you are always welcome. You are no bother when you are here. You don’t think you will stay in Edinburgh longer?”

“I doubt it. Julian has his finals and although they are waiting until July for the full honeymoon they will be away for several days right after the wedding. I find Edinburgh unsettling now, and have done a good job of letting my friendships there, such as they were, fade. My life at present is in Cambridge. If it was not for my Grandmother and Julian and Leslie, and Maggie and Tony, I would stop going there.”

“Is it that bad?”

The concern in Freya’s voice was clear.

“Oh yes. Doing the Open University while I was at school limited my interactions with most of my peers. Then making the money just reinforced that. Other than Leslie, Julian, Suzanne and Pete I hardly hung out with people my own age. A lot of the dating was with pupils in years ahead of me who had all left for university before I finished school. Tony is in his early thirties and Maggie is just a little older than Leslie. Then when the whole thing with Mum and Dad blew up it finished it off. So when I finally get possession of the house next June I will be based here during breaks and will only make short trips to Edinburgh.”

“So you will use that as your home during next summer and going forward. Does that mean you will stay with us this summer again?”

“If you are sure it is okay?”

Andrew didn’t need the words after seeing the smile on Freya’s face. The rest of the time passed with them catching up on all the latest news. Moira and Lars were planning on getting married in Reykjavik at the end of the summer, roughly a year after Freya and Jim’s wedding so that was going to be their main vacation of the year, all the wedding events in Iceland in September. Work for both of them was busy but seemed to be going well. Given their jobs, details were nonexistent but the general tone was positive.

As he sat on the train that afternoon heading back to Cambridge he knew that lunch had felt like a family lunch. Jim and Freya were more and more treating Andrew like a son rather than an honorary nephew. And he no longer questioned it, the opposite in fact. The two of them were stable, kind and even loving to him and he needed it. Andrew’s plans for Easter were being made without a thought about his parents, or whether he should be seeing them. The correspondence with them was down to a trickle.

Andrew put aside the perpetual loose tooth that was his relationship with his parents and thought about Sherard and his own reaction to him and his brazen behaviour. Just as he hated communists and IRA terrorists, so Andrew hated entitled takers. But he lived his life without thinking every socialist was a secret communist and every Irish person was a secret terrorist. Andrew needed to put Sherard out of his mind. Not forget about him but be able to deal with the reality of him walking and talking about Cambridge free and obnoxious as ever. He was sufficiently lazy as a cadet that he would trip up. As the train pulled into the station Andrew put his hope in the fact that Sherard’s karmic balance was bankrupt and that come-uppance was nigh. It was all he could do at present.