Chapter 11

Andrew returned to Cambridge on April 12^th and the next thing he knew it was May 2^nd, or so it seemed. The three weeks passed in a frenzy of studying and two solid weeks of exams. The first four weeks of studying had been balanced, he had taken time off and relaxed, enjoyed the company of friends, simple things like photographing Elspeth for a couple of hours. He had let his brain relax.

Andrew wasn’t a braggart but even he knew he didn’t need to study that hard, but in those three weeks his balance was as skewed as when he and Leslie had fought. He had retreated to his course then and so it was the same again. Studying was his proxy for control over his life. When he had studied in 1^st year it was just the new environment, his nature showing through. But 2^nd year was way more relaxed, he felt he belonged, his future career was still sufficiently distant that he did not obsess over it. This burst of insane studying was driven by so many uncertainties. Suzanne and Ara loomed larger over the course of the year; the whole vetting and potentially getting involved in Intelligence; and if that didn’t work out becoming an engineer, building a business and a career. Then you add in the crap with the family at Christmas and even small things like having to deal with home ownership for the first time. Andrew’s refuge from all that? His studies.

He did not volunteer at Addenbrooke’s, or attend OTC, and hockey was done for the year. He allowed no distractions. He studied close to 70 hours a week for most of the break but pushed 80 in the final week before the exams. Did it pay off? In spades. He was very pleased with eight of the ten exams and pleased with the other two. He didn’t fuck anything up and managed to survive the process. But he was an empty husk. It was 3.40 in the afternoon when their final exam finished and he and Olivia walked out into the weak spring sunshine. There was never joy, just relief. They were having a big night out the following day, the Saturday, to celebrate. There was no point that night, everybody would be drunk and/or asleep by 7.00. Andrew hugged Olivia and told her he would see her the next day. As she turned to head west to Newnham Meredith passed her, stopping to also give her a hug. Without a word Merry took Andrew’s hand and they walked up to College. His last memory was of coming as Meredith rode him on his bed. Andrew woke 15 hours later feeling utterly ravenous and more than slightly dazed. Meredith lay beside him.

“Welcome back to the land of the living Andrew.”

Morning breath be damned, they kissed for a long time.

“I slept all this time?”

“Of course you did. Even Superman has to go to that cave thingy and recharge. I was worried about you and how much you were studying. I am glad that you managed to get to the end of your exams without a problem. But you were out of control there at the end.”

She was not wrong. But it took months for Andrew to understand why. It was only in 4^th year when once again he was more relaxed and certain about his life that he realised his studying really did not have a lot to do with his need to revise the material. That was all in the future. After they cleaned up Andrew took Meredith down to Peggy’s Café for the first time. He told her all about it on the walk down.

“Every morning since you came up?”

“Pretty much, at least weekdays. I always stop here on the way back from swimming in the morning, have a bowl of soup and then return to College.”

His lentil soup habits still made Merry cringe. Peggy looked at Andrew questioningly as the two of them walked in.

“I know we are exceeding the ‘only one gownie at a time’ limit but I am starving.”

He caught the dishtowel flung at his head.

“This is my friend Meredith. I fell asleep after my last exam and missed dinner and so I am starving.”

Peggy just smiled and brought the equivalent of a three course meal out for breakfast. It was all leftovers from food she prepared during the week at the café but he didn’t care. Peggy was a good cook but even if she wasn’t Andrew would not have been the most discriminating customer that morning. Soup, a bowl of beef stew and some apple pie and ice cream made a dent in his hunger. Peggy smiled happily at him while Meredith looked askance at what, and the amount, he was eating.

“Look at the size of him. He shouldn’t miss a meal.”

After nearly three years Peggy and Andrew were very friendly. They were not friends, their lives were too different, but they could smile and laugh and tease each other. Plus she had painted him in his underwear so there were very few secrets!

“You are a life saver. I will be in at the usual time on Monday.”

They slowly walked back to Trinity College.

“She makes you soup every morning?”

“She makes a pot on a Sunday night and I have a bowl every morning on the way back from swimming. You have heard the story. It started when my cancer went into remission.”

“Sorry to interrupt but can I ask about that. You sometimes say you are cancer free, sometimes like just now you say it went into remission. Is there a difference?”

He was being sloppy with language again.

“Time is the difference. In my case the chemotherapy worked, my cancer was gone. I was lucky I suppose in that I had cancer that was localised but, what is the right way to describe it? I don’t know, stubborn isn’t the right word but it will do. My cancer was localised and stubborn and did not respond to earlier treatment until the chemotherapy, then it was gone. But at the time the doctors were careful to say that it went into remission. Because there are innumerable instances of cancer returning, especially to children. The one and five year survival rates are ghastly, or at least they were in the late 70s. That is why I go for six monthly check ups, and probably will do so for the rest of my life. With the chance that the cancer could return the doctors don’t want to raise or set expectations with phrases like cancer-free or you are cured. At the time my cancer went into remission and now I talk about being cancer-free but most doctors would not be so categorical. It is the one thing that I am glad they kept secret from me, the survival rates. I found out later but I was past the most likely time for a reoccurrence. Anyway at the time my cancer was in remission even although the tumours cells were gone.”

“Okay I see the difference. As you say with the passing of time it changes.”

The discussion of his soup eating habits was forgotten. But Andrew didn’t go to Hall for even more food, instead he took Meredith back to his room and thanked her for looking out for him the night before. The sleep had invigorated him and he was really touched by how she had taken him to bed and then just stayed with him as he slept off the worst excesses of his studying. Andrew was not a lazy lover but he brought his ‘A’ game that afternoon and it was fun. Being more honest, it was fucking awesome. The highlight? After popping twice he leaned back on his knees so that Meredith was arched, with just her shoulders and feet on the bed. He was in no danger of coming so he fucked Meredith until she could take no more. It took 27 minutes but she finally cried for mercy. She was bedraggled, sweaty but looked utterly intoxicating.

“Don’t look at me like that. You don’t get to touch me until June you beast.”

She kissed him before stretching out languidly along his body.

“I am going to ache for days. That was wonderful and horrible at the same time. You need to go and get more of those scarves. I deserve another one after that.”

Andrew started to giggle.

“Can you imagine. I would give Olivia another scarf as a thank you for being my study partner over this whole year. Then you could turn up, wearing your new scarf and ask her what she had to do to earn it.”

It was silly and frivolous but the thought of teasing Olivia almost made him call Manon. As for the dinner that night? Happy, loud, drunken, it was all of those things. Keith, Matt, Olivia and Andrew were part of a group of 25 that went out. they knew everyone, some better than others, but it was probably for the best that it wasn’t just the four of them. There was nothing left to talk about, they had been in each other’s company for too long. So instead there was lots of discussions about the upcoming projects, inevitably, as well as upcoming summer jobs, either confirmed or potential.

Andrew did not just have a small circle of friends and ignored everyone else. As with all aspects of life it was not so black and white. There was no way to know even a fraction of a 250 person year but he was friendly with most people. Those that he tended to stay away from were as a result of his own prejudices as much as anything. But he and Olivia would talk to people in labs, at lectures, going to and from any number of places. But it was light and superficial without ever going beyond casual acquaintance. But at the end of a gruelling year it was no hardship to go out for a boozy dinner with these people. There was camaraderie in their mutual suffering. Most of these people had more balance in their lives and were not as compulsive about the course as Andrew. He was friends with the nerds, it was who he was.

Nothing crazy happened, to him at least. There were some questionable pairings up at the end of the evening including Olivia, who got drunk and horny and spent the next month blushing every time she saw the guy around the Department. The following morning Andrew skipped running or swimming, even breakfast, and headed back down into London. He had moved seeing Ara back a day because of the night out but he would be there early. He had his swimming gear with him and hoped to persuade her to go swimming at Marshall Street with him before they did anything else.

“You just want to see me in a swimsuit again, don’t you?”

She had already turned to find and pack it leaving Andrew blushing but nodding on the doorstep. They walked down to the pool catching up. More from her than him. She knew he studied like crazy and didn’t have any interesting chat since he had last seen her. Which of course wasn’t completely true, as Andrew made no mention of expanding the photography business and his career as an amateur glamour photographer. But the five weeks had gone by in the blink of an eye. Ara was all excited and said she had something to show him but he had to wait until after swimming.

Arabella Lindsay still looked bloody fantastic in a swimsuit. She could have worked as one of the models with Hermès. But that was not her. She slipped into the pool and swam slowly in the lane next to Andrew as he did his usual lengths. He had long since given up figuring out how far he swam. Most days he reckoned it was around 2000 metres in half an hour. But it was never the point. It was routine, it was fitness, and that fitness was more mental than physical on many days. An hour after getting to Marshall Street Andrew was sitting in the lobby waiting for Ara to finish changing. Hair, it did it every time. Piccadilly Circus provided a small restaurant where they ordered some breakfast before Ara presented him with a piece of paper. It was a list. But as Andrew read the names he realised it was THE list. Her mother’s list of suitable matches. Ara had not being joking, not that he thought she had. Ara was born on Dec 15^th 1963 and the list had names with dates of birth in the preceding six years. The first 10 were on the front with a further 20 or so in smaller print on the back.

“I stole it from her.”

It wasn’t the Mona Lisa; her mother could make another list.

“Don’t look at me like that. I know she can make another list, she probably has these 10 names memorised. It is what it means. I am trying to assert my independence, let her know that I am not going to go along with her games. I mean look at me, can you see me being a duchess or a countess?”

Having somehow met both it was a question Andrew was afraid to answer. But what was sad was Ara’s mother was missing how special her daughter was by trying to force her to be what the mother wanted rather than what Ara wanted.

“You would make an excellent duchess, you are smart, understand the role and have an elegance and bearing that would allow you to fit in without an issue.”

Ara’s face fell.

“But you would also be desperately unhappy because it is not your passion. You would rather have been at Geneva last autumn than at some social event.”

Gorbachev and Reagan had held their first summit in Geneva in November. Ara’s face brightened.