Chapter 15

The reality of bringing his car to Cambridge hit Andrew in the face when he reached the centre of town. There was a queue of cars just to get to Trinity. The one way system pushed him out past Jesus College before he could head back into town but it was even worse coming in from the south. He knew that parking was awful round Addenbrooke’s as well and so he was disconsolate as he crossed over the train tracks heading south. But then he saw a sign for a caravan park and swung left and followed the signs. The place was almost deserted when Andrew got there, which was perfect for his purpose. When he explained what he wanted they looked suspicious but money talked and so he was able to park beside a static caravan that was not booked, and unlikely to be booked until the start of Easter term. If he had to move the car around during Easter term that was no big deal. It didn’t cost him a lot of money, it was just the hassle factor of the car being so far out of town. But it was a whole lot closer than Edinburgh!

By the time Andrew got to College the queue had lessened, and he was hot and sweaty, but the bursar’s office was efficient as usual and he hauled his bag and rucksack over to his new room. And the first tangible benefit of being a senior scholar. He was in a set, meaning he had a bedroom separate from his study and living area, in stair ‘I’ on the north wall of Nevile’s court. Hall was on the east wall and the library was on the west wall so there were many fewer rooms in that court than either New Court or Great Court. The rooms were much sought after, and mostly housed Fellows and only a few students. There were only two students in this stair for instance. Although he was again on the top floor he was very pleased. He was even more pleased when he opened the usual fat envelope from the College and found that he had been awarded a senior scholarship again. As Andrew looked around at his new set it dawned on him that this was his home for the rest of his time at Cambridge. Not even bothering to unpack Andrew headed over to Hall to see who else had returned. Justin was there, looking like he had only just sat down. Andrew grabbed some lunch and joined him.

“Did your folks even stop to let you out or was it the James Bond ejector seat?”

“Don’t joke. The traffic was so bad they turfed me out back up the street and cut out past Jesus. I had to walk the last stretch. I am better than I was in 1^st year with stuff but I was still pretty knackered by the time I got here.”

“I get that. I brought the car down this term and had to deal with the same traffic. I have it stashed out at a caravan park beyond the train station and walked back in myself.”

“You brought wheels? Why?”

“I saw some gigs this summer, two at Wembley Arena but also a bunch at the Marquee Club, one in the Rock Garden right there in Covent Garden. I miss going to gigs and there are none here so I decided to give myself the option of heading down to London on a Friday or Saturday night. Well it gives me the option of getting home, the big issue of going to London; the last train is so early.”

“Cool. Let me know when you are going, I am up for getting out of here a couple of times a term. What kind of car do you have?”

“Golf. It can hold three of us comfortably and four if the person behind me is tiny. Have you seen anyone else?”

“I am pretty sure I saw Navya walking out the back of the Court as I came in. She over in Burrell’s again?”

Andrew nodded.

“I am pretty sure it was her. Other than that no one else so far.”

They ate lunch and caught on their summer exploits. Andrew talked about helping the Ministry of Defence with computerisation but Cyprus was not mentioned. Justin had worked behind the scenes at Phillips, the third and smallest of the major auction houses in London. But he had enjoyed it which is all you can ask of a summer job.

“I am going to apply for a Masters here. From talking to people over the summer it is pretty clear that you need to many advantages as possible to secure an interesting job. I think everyone I worked with, bar one, had at least a Masters.”

“The different faculties all do it differently. Engineering is a four year course and we end up with a BA and a MEng as well. And there is not a BA only option. Whereas on other courses like yours you only sign up for the BA and then have to apply for the Masters. No consistency. The sciences are all four year courses, I haven’t heard of a three year one, whereas all the arts are three year courses. Odd. You are applying here, yes?”

“Yes. I scraped a First last year again so I have Firsts for the first two years. I am not sure what else I need. I mean I will have to talk about what I am going to study for my Masters but the practicalities are pretty well taken care of. What about you? We all know you will have ended up with a First.”

“Yes I did.”

Andrew shrugged, there wasn’t much else to say about it.

“Fuck me, it is like dragging teeth with you sometimes. Tell me the rest. Top of the year?”

“No.”

“Top of the College?”

He nodded.

“Senior Scholar?”

Another nod.

“Nobody would ever accuse you of letting success go to your head. What do reckon, 4.00 on the South Paddock?”

“Sure. Most people end up over there today.”

Although Andrew’s rooms were out the back of Hall he walked with Justin out into Great Court to watch the chaos. The saddest event of the year, 1^st years being shown round town like school children, was about to start and there was a milling throng of Freshers. They spotted Helena, in her guise as a Student Union volunteer, getting ready to lead her flock of sheep out into the wild and dangerous streets of Cambridge. It really was the saddest event. Smart enough to get to Cambridge but still needing to be shown where the supermarket was. Then they spotted one student happy to see everyone gathered together.

“I do like it when they pack them altogether like that. Helps with identification for later.”

Justin and Andrew shook Pedro’s hand and then they split. Justin ran the gauntlet and escaped back to Whewell’s and Andrew helped Pedro with his stuff over to New Court, Andrew’s old stair but the 1^st floor. Pedro looked around.

“It’ll do.”

“South Paddock, 4.00.”

He nodded and Andrew wandered back to his own room and unpacked and then sorted through the list of activities that he had to attend both from the College, all dealt with on Monday that year, and then the Department, later in the week. The familiarity of the routine. Just before 4.00 he grabbed one of his fancy new hats and headed off to the South Paddock. But got sidetracked on the way.

“Have you stuck a tracking device on me?”

Dan Wilson laughed and they shook hands.

“No you are just lucky. Abi is getting the key while Pam finds somewhere to park the car, although based on the traffic who knows how long she will be.”

10 minutes later there was still no sign of Abi or her mother.

“No need to stay here with me Andrew. They can’t be too long.”

Andrew nodded and took the chance to escape. But as he was shaking his hand Dan added one final comment.

“I am sorry things didn’t work out with you and Abigail.”

Rather than try and explain Andrew just nodded and left. He would think about the comment later. For the rest of the afternoon they lay out on the grass and just chatted away. Matt and Navya came over from Burrell’s Field, Pedro, Justin and Andrew were there and several people came over to say hi although they didn’t sit down with them. Helena was still out playing sheepdog and of Abi there was no sign.

“When did 20 feel so old? Did you see the Freshers?”

There was general amusement and agreement with Justin’s characterisation.

“I have helped with the prospective students when they are here in December, I did it for the last two years. The first year I did it was great, I felt a connection to them, it was me a year ago, all that kind of thing. But last year I was already starting to feel like an old fart. I could not do it this year. They are so breathless. And they all fall into two categories, they hang on your every word or they think they know it all. No in-between.”

Five 20 year olds sat on the lawn and told the kids to get off their grass.

“Andrew brought his car this year.”

Justin thought this detail needed to be shared. Andrew explained about going to London two or three times a term, go to a gig, even just escape the bubble for a night. The last reason brought a lot of comment.

“I thought you liked it here?”

“I do but we all worked over the summer in a variety of jobs. In two years we are going to have graduated and have joined the workforce. Unless you are staying in academia it is us that are going to have to adjust to the world, not the other way round. I mean look at this place, it is wonderful but it is hardly the norm.”

They were sitting on a piece of immaculate lawn, framed by trees, on a warm early autumn afternoon. The River Cam ran past them, and as it was at the back of the College, the area was known as the Backs. On the College side of the river was the punting station and there were the usual intrepid souls trying punting for the first time. And although the view was very pretty what really caught your eye were the buildings. History was everywhere. For Trinity going north to south first there was the Wren Library, the west side of Nevile’s court where Andrew’s room was, and then to the south of it was the west wall of New Court, where most of them had stayed the previous year and still home to Pedro and Abi. New Court was only 150 years old whereas the Library was pushing 300. Like Andrew said there was nothing normal about the place and yet everyone took it for granted so quickly. The first time you see it all you stand there gawping like a tourist but by the third day you are already blasé. Sad in a way.

“I see your point. But there are a lot of people who work in historic buildings.”

He was doing a bad job of explaining what he meant. The buildings were just the symbol of it, the buildings weren’t the bubble, the people in them were the bubble. It was Pedro that helped Andrew find the words.

“I know what you mean Andrew. I saw it all summer in Madrid. In August a lot of the population leaves the city, heads to the coast. So the people in the city are predominantly tourists. And a real mix of people as well. So this endless procession of people is in the city, it is brutally hot and so everyone is hot, sweaty and tired. I watched the different nationalities jostle against each other, watched tempers fray, and it seemed so different to here. People were quick to take offence, violence was threatened and at the same time sex was also right below the surface. Maybe it is another way of not being normal, the escape of a holiday, but it was not like here.”

“I saw the opposite but now that I think about it I know what you both mean. Andrew talks about this place and not being normal, and Pedro saw people living it up on holiday. I had the exact opposite situation, just dealing with Dad’s regular customers, living their daily lives. I thought it was because I wasn’t thinking about Physics that it felt weird. But it was not just that. It was humdrum, mundane, thinking about petty things. I get it.”

“It also leads on from the separation from the people I went to school with. But is it here specifically or is it just going to university compared to a lot of people back at home?”

Matt’s point led to a whole new round of comments. As always with these kind of chats, there were no new insights, it was ground well ploughed by prior generations but it was part of their own awakening. At dinner Abi and Helena came over and said hello but were eating with other groups, Helena with the Student Union crowd and Abi with some sporty types. Afterwards they decided to stick with tradition and go to the College bar. Andrew half-heartedly played wingman for Pedro but even he was struggling to make progress the place was so packed and noisy. One surprising hug came from Enfys Williams. They had been polite, maybe even stretching to pleasant, the previous year but their groups did not overlap and so had never really hung out. But Andrew had made the point of asking her to dance at the May Ball which ended up lasting for three songs and she hadn’t forgotten. As usual he was away earlier than most, happy to escape the oppressive heat and noise. Not just an old fart, but happy to be one.

The following morning was perfect. It was cold and wet so the weather had nothing to do with it but the routine of his university mornings was the greeting of an old friend. Even the nodded ‘good morning’ to the Porter on the way out of College was familiar. After the run and swim Andrew was at Peggy’s Café at 7.40 as usual. To find a bowl of hot lentil soup waiting for him as usual. He flustered Peggy with a big hug before handing her the usual termly envelope and grabbing the soup. Several of her regulars catcalled her and promised the same thing the next morning. After two years there were more than a few nods of greeting including from Ron, the man who had talked to Andrew about the death of his son.

The rest of the day was dealing with the College, talks about all the dos and don’ts of life at Trinity College. Okay there wasn’t much on the do list but they sure as hell went through a long list of don’ts. One year there was a long harangue about not climbing on the roofs of the buildings. It was a sure-fire way to get expelled, more for damaging buildings hundreds of years old rather than risking your own life. Priorities. But by mid-afternoon it was over and all Andrew had left was his Tutor meet and greet. Wakefield had been a bit of an arse at the end of 2^nd year, but that had been one on one, and this was all five of the students assigned to him. Safety in numbers. And it was harmless, bordering on pointless but Wakefield made no further disparaging comments.

After dinner Andrew caught the bus out to Addenbrooke’s to start another term of volunteering. The first night of each term, but particularly after the long vacation, was tough. But the nurses were pleased to see him and had him helping straight away. So he was in and out of the ward letting the patients get used to him. It was always slow and steady but Andrew stuck with it. But on the walk home, he walked as often as he rode the bus, he would wonder about the utility of what he was doing. It seemed very scattergun, and there was always the nagging doubt that effort did not translate into outcomes.

The following morning the four of them met at the department, it was good to see Olivia and Keith, catch up on their summer. But it was also a transition point for them. No longer would they all be in the same lectures and labs. 80% of their classes ran at the same time, just in different lecture rooms so they saw each other all the time, and had lunch most days, but the closeness of the first two years started to fade. For Andrew it was with Keith most noticeably. Matt was a good friend, at Trinity and in the OTC with him. And Olivia was specialising in the same discipline as Andrew.

“The German must be a hell of an engineer.”

This was Matt reacting to the shameful news that Andrew was not top of the course any more. The German at Emmanuel College had beaten him by a whole mark.

“Does anyone know what he is specialising in?”

It was Keith that answered.

“Yes, he is in Electrical with me.”

When he was still at school Andrew’s class had been around 30 people and so he had a good idea of how he was doing compared to his peers, especially with tests during the terms. But there with 250 of them in Engineering there was no way to know your relative position and the strengths or weaknesses of other students. So Andrew never really stressed about it. It was nice to do well but the truth was he had been a clever pupil and now student all his life. Andrew didn’t study to be top of the year, he studied because it was his nature.

“I don’t know him at all, is he a decent bloke?”

“Yeah he is. Surprisingly un-German, quiet but friendly. Can you imagine if he was like that braying donkey from St. John’s?”

Good old ‘Johnno’ was still a loud pain in the arse about the rest of his life but he had shut up about life in the Department. Olivia and Andrew would have to deal with him as he was doing Civil Engineering with them.

“You not bothered Andrew? To lose by a mark.”

“Nah, what more could I do? I have enough things that I can control to worry about without worrying about something over which I have no control. It’s Cambridge for goodness sake.”

All four of them had managed Firsts again that year so there was no jealousy between them. They split up and the afternoon session was a kaleidoscope of options, dates, deadlines, forms, and a cold shower of realism from Olivia.

“What you are talking about trying to do, testing models, using explosives, they will never go for it Andrew. That is a PhD project, maybe even a post-doc. Concentrate on the maths, the design, the engineering theory. You don’t have the time to build, and quality control, pieces of structure to then set them up in a field somewhere and blow them up. You know that it is not just the distance that makes a significant variable, there is the composition of the explosive. Do you really think the military are going to let you use whatever they have, some exotic plastic explosive? The blast pressure will be significantly higher than commercial mining explosive and both of them will produce a more significant shockwave than ANFO. Work on the maths, using levels of pressure and model it mathematically, rather than try and build something. What is your angle for the project? All of this must have been done thousands of times already.”