Chapter 8

Wednesday 18th July 1984

On graduation day, I found that I had little opportunity to be civil, but I was polite.

“Mum, Dad, this is my boyfriend David. He’s been so helpful to me in my final year and my preparation for Finals; he’s the reason I’ve got a First.”

There was a half smile from both parents, I extended a hand to her mother.

“Mrs Metcalfe.”

“David.” There was a smile as she took my hand, but no warmth in it.

“Mr Metcalfe.”

“David.” Again the reluctant smile of acknowledgement and rather limp unenthusiastic handshake, and much reserve.

From then on, I was ignored in favour of their daughter, which was reasonable enough I suppose. Once she had left them to join the graduands, I did attempt some conversation as we sat in Owen’s Hall waiting for the ceremony to begin.

“I trust you had a good journey here,” I said, “in spite of the road works on the motorway.”

“Yes,” said Metcalfe, “no problems.” Immediately he began to talk to his wife.

I made no further effort to communicate with the pair and they ignored me.

After the ceremony and photographs, which included a picture of Helen and me taken on Helen’s camera by her father, Metcalfe spoke to Helen as we were leaving the premises.

“We have made a table reservation for three for lunch,” he said. “I’m sure they can fit in an extra one. Will you join us, David?”

Since they knew in advance I would be there they could have booked a table for four, so it was clear from that and from his tone of voice, that I was expected to refuse, which I did.

“I’m afraid I have an appointment with a client later this afternoon,” I lied. “So I’ll take my leave of you. I’ll see you later Helen. Have a safe journey back,” I said to her parents and walked off.

Suddenly she was by my side. “David!” she begged me. “I’m so sorry!”

I stopped and turned to her and saw her relax as she saw my expression was not anger, but love and affection.

“Don’t worry,” I said. “We can celebrate together later on when they’ve gone. You go back and have your lunch.”

Her hands went round my neck and she kissed me. I kissed her back. It was in full view of her parents and it was clear she was making a statement.

She smiled lovingly at me, winked and went back to where her parents were standing. I watched her go – I never tired of watching her swaying rear view – then turned and decided I might as well go to work and make my lie into truth, at least partially.

On my way to work, I was irked at Helen’s parents’ cold attitude which amounted to rudeness in my eyes, and the thought, more an urge really, came to me that we should get married sooner than later. That would teach them!

Needless to say I immediately scotched that idea. In the panoply of reasons why one should even contemplate marriage, revenge on the bride’s parents was right at the bottom of any list. One marries one’s partner to commit one’s life to her and nothing less as a reason in my eyes would do. However...

Leaving her parent’s aside (and I transiently thought leaving them aside would be a wonderful idea), she was over the major hurdle in her academic life, she would be employed locally and we had de facto settled into a happy life together. There was no doubt in my mind that I need not look any further for a marriage partner, and was reasonably sure she felt the same way.

So before I had even reached the office, I had decided to ask her to marry me, for the right reasons this time. I would do it that evening.

I then spent most of the afternoon day-dreaming about being married. We could look for a ring tomorrow lunchtime: she was on holiday from now until she began work in September, so we could meet at lunchtime in town and choose a ring.

Visions came of a neat house in the suburbs filled with a suitable number of children. How many would we have? Two? Six? I laughed at myself for being a fool. Marriage first, living together second, children when she was ready for them.

First things first. Ask her tonight. Now get some work done. Which I did.

Now the romantic stories have the besotted swain on one knee at some public gathering making his profession of love, his putative bride blushing and gasping at the surprise and shouting ‘Yes, yes, yes!’. Applause from the appreciative audience. The ring slipped on.

Sorry. Not my way. For one thing I always thought it puts the woman in a terrible position if she has to say ‘no’ in front of a roomful of people.

I returned home, arriving at five thirty to find she had not returned yet. I had my name on the carnivores’ list for dinner, but Helen’s name was not there. However she had had a celebration lunch with her parents and may not have wanted a full evening meal.

Christian was cooking, and it seemed was to serve lasagne and salad, so I asked him to allow for Helen wanting some, pointing out she had had a celebration lunch. He laughed.

“Oh, yes!” he said. “She graduated today, didn’t she? Was it good?”

“Very satisfying!” I asserted. “Fitting tribute to all her hard work.”

“And yours,” said Imogen, as she came into the room having caught the conversation as she entered. “Will we see her for dinner tonight?”

I explained the situation.

“Get her to come down anyway,” she suggested. “We’ve missed her these past few weeks.”

I took some tea up to our rooms and changed out of my work clothes and into something smart casual. I thought perhaps we might go out for a drink after the meal.

I picked up the novel I was reading, and as if on cue, she arrived breathless, breezing into the room with a huge grin on her face. She bustled across the room and parked herself on my lap, turning my head in her hands and kissing me voraciously. Then she stood and moved to the bedroom.

“Come on!” she urged. “Half an hour to dinner. Come and congratulate me on my success.” She thought for a moment, then, “And yours, my love, and yours. Couldn’t have done it without you!”

I got up and followed her, and by the time I reached the doorway she was naked, one hand tweaking a breast and the other plunged between her legs.

“Well?” she said with a feral grin.

I gazed my appreciation then rapidly shed my clothes, thankful that I had not as yet put on any socks. As I moved towards her she did a back flip onto the bed, legs wide. Her fingers returned to stroke herself.

“I’ve been looking forward to this all afternoon,” she chuckled. “I kept losing what my dear parents were saying during the meal, I had this amazing itch for you.”

I knew what she wanted and fell on her, or rather fell above her, whereupon she gripped my solid cock, put it to her and with one thrust it was in. My single thought was, ‘I’m home, this is home’.

And she said with a gasp, “Yes! This is where you belong, deep in me.”

What is home, if not the place where you belong? We said the same thing, and then began the frantic action, the pulling and pushing, my hands gripping her waist and she my bottom, trying to push me deeper.

Afterwards she lay on me, having somehow reversed our positions so she was on top. I was still hard, still deep, and she was now moving her hips languidly, relishing our connection, keeping me hard, all the better to feel each other. There could not be a better time to ask that question.

“Helen, my sweet, I’ve got a question to ask you.”

“So have I,” she said.

What happened next was uncanny, but summed up how closely our thoughts lay together, we spoke together:

“Would you like us to get married?” Me. “I think we need to marry.” Her.

She started. Lifted herself and stared into my eyes. Again we spoke together:

“So do I.” Me. “Yes, I would.” Her.

We looked at each other, then a smile began to grow, then a chuckle, a giggle, laughter.

“What are we like?” she spluttered.

“Each other!” I howled.

Eventually we quietened.

“It seems we are now engaged to be married.” I said.

“I can feel how engaged we are. You’re still hard enough that I can feel you,” she said.

“Tomorrow lunchtime. Look for a ring?”

“Two rings.”

“Ok. Two rings.”

There was a knock at the living room door, and Nuala shouted, “Dinner time!”

Helen averred that she was still hungry so we dressed hurriedly and attempted by use of a comb and hairbrush to look as if we’d not come straight from bed, ‘just fucked.’ The looks we got showed we failed in that endeavour.

Helen looked around at the knowing faces, and seeing most of the residents were there: “OK, we’ve been celebrating my graduation, and we’ve decided to get married.”

Congratulations rained down on us. The women were looking at Helen’s left hand.

“We’re going looking for a ring tomorrow,” Helen assured them. The women looked relieved; they would have something to squeal over the next evening.

“Good enough reason to ‘celebrate’,” said Harry. “and I should know. I’m quite good at celebrating.”

The rest of the evening was taken out of our hands. We were taken to the pub and bought drinks all night, which of course meant that we were more than a little drunk when we were at last alone in the bedroom.

We undressed, and climbed into bed.

“Too tired,” she slurred. “And drunk.”

“Just as well we sealed the deal before dinner,” I said, but she was asleep before my sentence was completed. I followed her example.

I announced our engagement to the office next morning, having overslept and, after a couple of paracetamol and a hasty cup of tea, arrived only five minutes late, my hangover almost gone.

Ezra heard the news and arrived to congratulate me, then surprised me by giving me the afternoon off to go buy a ring.

We bought two rings, a solitaire diamond for her and an engraved signet ring for me.

On Friday we went to Mum’s house, and announced our engagement. Gina, after the obligatory squeal and examination of Helen’s ring, immediately insisted on a party, with which Mum agreed. It was arranged there and then for the following Friday. Helen went over to Mum’s during the week to help with the preparations.

“I love it there,” she told me. “I can see why you’re so wonderful, being brought up there!”

I had to agree – about being wonderful as well as being well brought up!

Craig and Gina were exultant at our news and a number of the ‘children’ came back for the party. Craig was able to tell me that all was now well with his life, and his new ‘official’ girlfriend Vanessa was keeping him on the strait and narrow. I knew that, she’d told me as much when Helen and I first visited the house.

The party was quite a rowdy affair. The immediate neighbours were invited, and because they knew me well having seen me grow up there, they actually turned up and so no one was disturbed by the noise. Helen’s ring was duly exclaimed over, and Gina’s questions which far crossed the line into intrusiveness, were answered, much to her surprise.

Gaynor, another ex-foster sister took Helen aside and told her that she, Gaynor, had initiated me into the mysteries of sex, and hoped her work had borne fruit. Helen said she had no complaints, and that Gaynor had done a good job. My blushes were not spared.

Once again we were invited to stay and were given ‘our’ room. Out of respect for the younger folk, we kept ecstatic noise to a minimum.

For the weekend following the party, Helen had arranged for us to visit her parents. After the weekend, she would stay on for a few days to tell her friends. I had to work.

While she would not tell them the reason for our visit, I suspected that they suspected.

The house was, by comparison with Mum’s house, or the mansion in which we lived, small.

However in this it was identical to every other house on the road, indeed, with minor variations identical to millions of houses which were built in the 1930s by speculative builders for the middle classes.

They had two rooms on the ground floor, each approximately twelve feet by twelve feet, with a fireplace, and a kitchen about ten by ten feet, or less. Upstairs were two bedrooms the same size as the living rooms and situated above them, with a bathroom, toilet, sometimes separate from the bathroom, sometimes part of the bathroom, and a very small third bedroom over the entrance hall.

The Metcalfe’s house was no different, except that the rear living room and the kitchen beside it had been extended to be double in size. It was beautifully decorated, expensively furnished and spotlessly clean and tidy.

We were actually welcomed; Mr and Mrs Metcalfe knew their obligations to a guest, even one they would have preferred not to have been there. We were shown to the rear living room and invited to sit, which we did, Helen ensuring we were together on the plush sofa.

All the furnishing and fittings were designed to make one feel comfortable and cosseted. The carpet was an Axminster with a traditional pattern of what I believe are called ‘lozenges’. The sofa and chairs were plain blue fabric. There was a sideboard, occasional tables and book shelves all clearly antiques. I could have laid odds that the dining table and chairs, as yet unseen in the dining room would be antiques as well.

Helen wasted no time in stating our reason for being there. Her parents were certainly not ready for it, and come to think of it, neither was I!

“Mummy, Daddy, we have an announcement to make. David and I are engaged to be married.”

I got no chance to ‘ask her father for her hand’, nor would I have done so, and I think to this day that Helen knew that, and anyway she was not the sort of girl who believed she ‘belonged’ in some way to her Father to be given away.

The announcement was met with a silence which could only be described as stunned. Then Mrs Metcalfe collected her wits.

“Would you like some tea?” she asked. So predictable: in a crisis, make a pot of tea!

“Thank you, that would be nice,” I said remembering my manners, and both parents left to prepare it. We looked at each other.

“Council of war?” I asked her sotto voce, with a grin.

She grimaced. “Probably working out how to respond, yes,” she said.

Mrs Metcalfe brought in a tray with Crown Derby china teacups with a chocolate biscuit selection on a Crown Derby serving plate, with matching cake plates for each of us. Mr Metcalfe followed with the teapot, milk jug and sugar bowl, all, yes you’ve guessed it: Crown Derby.

Tea was dispensed, biscuits handed round, and once everyone was well equipped, Mr Metcalfe (no invitation as yet to use his given name) began.

“You’re both very young to be thinking about marriage,” he began. He got no further.

“Daddy, I’ve been out with a number of men since I was seventeen, some of whom I was very attracted to, but when I met David, something new happened: I just knew immediately that we were completely suited to each other.