Chapter 14

Andrew’s project did not move smoothly forward. It was much more like a step function than a straight line. He would have a productive idea, something seemed to work, or at least the maths made sense, but then there would be a period where he seemed not to make any progress. But the week after he returned from Edinburgh was the key week with regards to what he was trying to do, what he was trying to prove. And the moment of inspiration was a nothing moment at King’s Cross. He had got off the Edinburgh sleeper and was changing platforms to head out to Cambridge. Another train arrived as he was walking over to the platform and Andrew watched it very gently touch the buffers at the end of the platform. Now trains had been doing this for more than 180 years, it really was a moment of no consequence. But Andrew saw the hydraulic buffer gently compress and it stuck in his mind.

On the train up to Cambridge he thought about the incorporation of hydraulics into structural engineering. There were many missteps along the way but that day was the start of the journey. But this line of thought was a shot in the arm to his whole week. He was even more engaged than usual and both Matt and Olivia commented upon it. But with them all facing six months of work on these projects they knew that there would be manic weeks and manically depressed weeks. Hopefully more of the former than later.

He and Catherine had settled into a routine, Wednesday and Sundays, and they were gradually getting to know each other better. Andrew’s memory of Merry was from the end of their year together which was stupid, it had taken them all three terms to become as close as they were at her graduation. Catherine, half way through the Michaelmas term, was still self-censoring herself. There were moments when Andrew thought she might let herself go but instead she would rein herself back in. It was not a big deal, but he didn’t know that he saw the real, uninhibited person that term. As a result it did give Andrew moments of doubt, there were times it did feel very transactional. The surprising area with Catherine was pillow talk. Merry and Andrew would have wide ranging discussions but a lot were about sex, taboos, fantasies, things to mentally recharge them, well him really, before they fucked again. Catherine was a very smart woman but the conversations with her were much more like those with Helena in 2^nd year.

“You never talk about politics Andrew, is there a reason?”

Catherine was lying on him, she had quickly adopted this position to lie and chat, and was looking at him with interest.

“I tend to steer clear of topics and situations where nobody is going to change. I met some College of Art students once, and they were horrified that I was in the OTC. They were all members of CND and berated me for hours, well it felt like hours, about nuclear weapons, how terrible they are and how we should get rid of them immediately. I think they even called me a fascist warmonger at one point. In my mind there was no point in trying to have a discussion with them about nuclear weapons, anything to do with the history, and most importantly how fundamental they are to the security of the country and the west. I had a completely different world outlook but they weren’t going to listen. I think what I am guilty of is not bothering to pretend to listen to the other side.”

He stopped and gathered his thoughts. As a pillow talk discussion this had caught him by surprise.

“That sounded wrong. My core belief is that I am not better than someone else. Yes I might be smarter, able to pass exams but that does not make me better. People are entitled to hold whatever opinions they want, just don’t expect me to listen to them. So I don’t listen to other people. I have lived in a privileged bubble all my life. I started at Heriot’s, a private school in the centre of Edinburgh, when I was seven. 11 years there followed by four years here hardly makes me qualified to talk with authority about the challenges of other people.”

Andrew stopped, he was not sure that he had really explained himself.

“It is interesting where you started with this. I thought you would have talked about the parties but it is more fundamental than that. So how do those personal beliefs translate to actual politics?”

Catherine was forcing him to think about things that he had not totally fleshed out. The general election had been called on June 9^th 1983, two days before his 18^th birthday. So he was almost the oldest person not able to vote, despite having paid considerably more than £3m in taxes. Having paid all that money, like so many other things with the success of the companies, completely skewed Andrew’s perception around politics, taxation and public spending. Unfortunately he was not going to be able to use that as a starting point in his discussions with Catherine.

“I am guilty of only hearing the loud voices when it comes to the two sides of politics, when I know there are more thoughtful and considered, more logical voices also on both sides. I have talked about the College of Art students. In 2^nd year there was a vocal leftie in the stair who rather than going for fascist warmonger went with fascist bully-boy instead. I think the best I could describe him was that he was happy being unhappy. If there was something wrong in the world, some injustice, then his face lit up like a seven year old at Christmas. I had to be a College parent last month and one of the three students was also like that. He thought he knew more than everyone else and was angry at, well everything. Not too angry to come and live in this opulent bubble but angry nonetheless.

“And the other side are even worse. ‘Don’t you know who I am?’, ‘Don’t you know who Daddy is?’, ‘they are nothing but smelly proles’, I have heard all that and worse in both Hall and the Bar, never mind throughout town. Peterhouse is supposed to be the worst of all with that attitude. That is what I mean when I say that I don’t think I am better than someone else.”

Catherine laughed at him.

“Do you want to know who Daddy is?”

Andrew looked startled but then saw her grin.

“Whoever your father is I am sure he would thoroughly disapprove of what I am doing to his daughter.”

He then took his time to demonstrate all the ways he could upset Daddy. 30 minutes later Catherine was back in place, a trace of perspiration on her brow despite the cold autumn night.

“It is interesting listening to you talk. You come across as an odd combination of very accepting and very judgemental.”

Andrew considered that for a moment.

“That might be a very succinct way of describing it. A lot of the areas of great contention are the ones where there is no obvious answer. In fact there is no difficult-to-find answer. Rather there is nothing but messy compromise. One of my close friends is doing a PhD in Middle Eastern studies. Something to do with the intersection of nationalism, politics and religion in the region. You just have to look at that area to know that it is a fucked up complicated mess. And where people, when all else fails, turn back to faith. The people who are trying to make any progress there are. Well I don’t know what they are. You could argue it is all pointless and they are deluded when they try. I don’t know. I think one of the things that is not talked about enough is man’s ability, humanity’s ability, to hold a grudge. More than anything else that gives me pause. We don’t have to go to the Middle East to see that. Northern Ireland is an example closer to home. Everybody has picked sides, everybody has a massacre or an incident from the past that they can point to, and nobody wants to compromise. In situations like that I tend not to engage. The line from that movie Wargames springs to mind ‘the only winning move is not to play’. I choose not to play.”

“Wow, that is incredibly passive. You don’t care?”

“No, I do care but what should I do or say. Look at Northern Ireland. What can I possibly say in a discussion that is going to make a whit of difference. Did the English commit crimes against the Irish people? Yes, but no more than they did against the Anglo-Saxons, the Welsh, the Scots. The first invasion of Ireland was before 1200. Barely 100 years after the Norman invasion of Britain. And technically it wasn’t even an invasion at first as they were asked to help by an Irish nobleman. Try and unpack, resolve, absolve and figure out 800 years of governance and oppression. And that is before the current situation, that is before the impact of religion, the impact on British history with the defeat and overthrow of James the Seventh. Now there is a majority of the people in Northern Ireland who want to stay part of Britain. And there is a minority who are bombing and shooting them trying to change that.

“Same with the Falklands. Does it make sense that there is a small island group off the coast of South America that is British, 8000 miles south of here. Of course it does not. But the people there want to be British not Argentinian and we had a war to recover it from an Argentine invasion. Did you or I have anything to do with the situation in the Falklands, the situation as it is in Northern Ireland? Of course not. And personally I can’t be bothered talking to an Argentine or an Irish Republican about it. We are stuck with both places. The majority of the population in free elections have chosen to be British. Nothing that I say to them, or they say to me can change that. So I choose to save my breath. It doesn’t mean I don’t know and accept that there are all sorts of things lurking in history that complicate it. But nothing is going to change. Just like Israel.”

Catherine didn’t immediately respond before smiling wanly at him.

“I don’t know that I agree completely with you but I see why you think that way. You know a lot of history and you believe in democracy. All I wondered was whether you were a secret Lib-Dem or something.”

She giggled and Andrew laughed. As he had thought earlier, odd pillow talk. And looking back on his time with Catherine, it was moments like those that stood out more than the sex. Catherine’s inherent self-censorship, or self-control, meant that the sex that term was good. But it never got close to being great. Whereas the conversations with just the two of them lying in bed were full of moments of insight, and on several occasions were very thought-provoking.

Andrew stayed and had dinner at Trinity on Friday night before walking down to get the car and head to London. That year he had cabbed out to the caravan park more than the previous year but although cold and blustery he walked that night. He had a bunch of tapes for the journey down to London. The weekend was going to be interesting. He and Rupashi had not gone beyond writing letters to each other, but the fact that he was writing to her at her work was notable. Andrew was trying hard not to read too much into the letters but she seemed restless. Or at least that she came across as restless. Again, he was not an unbiased witness. And thinking back to his two memorable nights with Rupashi made Andrew look forward to meeting up with Helena. He would call her on the Saturday morning and confirm the arrangements for the evening. What was going to happen after that? He didn’t know, although he did have a few ideas!

It was well after 10.00 when Andrew got to the flat, finding parking had been a nightmare, and he quietly entered. The post dinner drinks seemed to be flowing and as Jim and Freya had not mentioned who they were entertaining he decided to stay in his room. The noise of everyone leaving around 1.00 briefly roused him so he knew not to expect Jim and Freya up much before 10.00, maybe even later. And so it was the following morning. Andrew was sitting thinking about his project and doodling some maths when Jim wandered through. Andrew had been up early, although not as early as normal, and after exercising had run over to Marshall Street for a swim. When he returned to the flat he called Helena and arranged to meet her that evening before he put the coffee on and the smell worked its usual magic.

“We don’t just miss you for this, but every morning we complain to each other about putting on the coffee. Hardly a day goes by without one or other of us saying we miss having you around for exactly this.”

Well it was good to be missed for something. Jim took a mug through to Freya before returning and sitting with him at the kitchen table.

“When did you get in last night? None of us heard you.”

“10.15, maybe a few minutes later. I didn’t want to interrupt so just slipped into my room.”

“You should have come through and said hello.”

“If I knew who was there, Jean and Norman for example, then I would have done. But I am conscious that not everyone knows about me staying and I didn’t want to leave you to have to explain.”

“You are not some guilty secret Andrew.”

“Oh I know that. But if people had not met me, or didn’t know that I stayed with you while I am in London then it just interrupts the flow of the evening. I heard the clink of glasses and raucous laughter as I came in and figured it was better just to let you be.”

Jim shrugged and did not contradict him. Andrew was sure he had made the right choice.

“What do you want to do for food? Wait a bit and go out for lunch or do you want breakfast?”

Jim left to check with Freya and the pair of them came back through. Freya gave him a big hug.

“It is good to see you Andrew. Just you this trip?”

“Yes just me, I wanted to talk to the two of you, talk through some things, ask for your thoughts, get some advice.”

Andrew saw Freya and Jim make eye contact for a moment.

“Okay then.”

20 minutes later they were all sitting around the kitchen table eating the brunch he had prepared. Once the table was clear they went through to their drawing room with fresh coffee. They sat quietly and looked expectantly at Andrew. He took a deep breath.

“You know how I can ramble.”

That brought smiles.

“I suspect there will be a lot of that. A large part of this is my confusion over my career. I am concerned that I have been spoiled by not having a boss, and that I will not be suited to working in a corporate environment or a normal business setting.”

“What do you mean Andrew?”

“When we developed the software Julian and I wrote the code and Leslie dealt with the business aspects. There is a reason that we are still close friends and getting all that money hasn’t changed us. We are similar in outlook and don’t get on each other’s nerves. My limited experience of dealing with people in both business and government is that it is very hierarchical. There is deference given, whether justified or not, to those older, more senior. I don’t know that I will fit in within that environment.”

“Okaaay.”

It was clear from the way Jim said it he wasn’t getting the point.