Chapter 5

It took them five minutes when they arrived in the centre of Stirling to find the right pub, and the three of them were almost the first customers. They had just got themselves settled in a corner with two pints of heavy for Jon and Andy and a pint of soda water with fresh lime segments for Karen when the rest of the teams started to arrive. The Stirling players and their hangers-on were first, followed a few minutes later by the Edinburgh busload. The landlord, a dour looking Glaswegian by the name of Hamish brightened up considerably when faced with getting on for a hundred patrons all of whom gave the impression that their afternoon’s exertions had imbued them with a thirst.

“Tell us about Andy,” Karen said as they sat down with their drinks, “I know you’re a med student, but where from?”

“Nothing much to tell,” he said, “I’m a diplobrat.”

“A what?” she queried.

“A diplobrat, my parents are diplomats. My father is currently Her Britannic Majesty’s High Commissioner to the Republic of India, he and Mum live in Delhi, for the next two years, then he’ll come back for three years and work at the FCO in London, then probably do another tour overseas before retiring, taking his knighthood and becoming a board member at god knows how many companies who think that retired diplomats look good on the letterhead. We offspring call ourselves diplobrats.”

“So where did you go to school?” Karen asked.

“Various British or international schools abroad until I was eleven. Then public school in England.” He answered.

“Eton?” she asked, “Harrow? Winchester?”

“No, one just outside Bradford in Yorkshire, Woodhouse Grove,” he replied, “my dad didn’t believe in spending money he didn’t have to. What about Karen, where are you from?”

“Blackpool,” she replied, “my dad keeps the Manchester Pub.”

“Oh, I know that place, your dad’s a big Polish guy right?”

“That’s right, Frank Kaliszewski.”

“He keeps a good pint,” he said, then gave Karen a piercing look, “hey, didn’t you work there as a barmaid?”

“I still do when I’m home,” she said, “but that may become more and more infrequent now.”

“Really?” he queried.

She gestured to Jon with her head.

“Now I have Jon” she said, “I may decide I’d rather spend my time with him.”

“Nice to see they were all wrong,” he said.

“All wrong?” Jon asked.

“Yeah, talk in the pub was that Karen here was, you know, batting for the other team.”

Karen snorted in an effort to stifle a laugh.

“Did I say something funny?” Andy asked.

Jon looked at Karen and an unspoken question flew between them. He nodded.

“No, well, in a way,” Karen said, “you see, they weren’t all wrong, only half wrong. Well ninety percent wrong, would be more like the actual proportion.”

Andy looked puzzled.

“Andy,” Karen said, softly, so only he and Jon would hear her, “I’ve been known to bat for both teams.”

His eyes shot open in surprise.

“What?” he exclaimed, “but you don’t look the part.”

“You mean I’m not overweight, don’t wear dungarees and I eat meat?” Karen asked.

Andy had the good grace to blush.

“I’m sorry Karen,” he apologised, “No, that’s not what I mean.”

Karen laughed, breaking the tension.

“It’s all right Andy, I know you didn’t mean anything. Yes, I am a card carrying bi-sexual woman, although I’d prefer it if that didn’t get around,” she said, “but I greatly prefer men. Well, one man at least.”

She indicated Jon as she said it.

“Sweeney, you are one lucky son of a bitch,” he said.

“I know,” Jon replied, “I can’t believe how lucky I am either.”

“Are you playing this weekend?” Andy asked, changing the subject.

“No,” he replied, “we’re going home to meet my parents, since we did Karen’s last weekend.”

“Trust you to grab a girl whose dad owns a pub,” Andy said, “say hi to your parents and sister for me will you.”

“I will.”

“And if he doesn’t,” Karen added, “I will.”

An hour and another pint later, they set off home, offering Andy a lift, but he declined, saying that he’d go back on the coach, so Jon and Karen set off alone down the A9 towards Edinburgh.

“What do you intend to do when you’ve qualified?” Jon asked Karen as she drove along.

“Pretty much the same as you,” she said, “I have to do a year post-graduation, after which I become registered and able to practice unsupervised. I’ll get a training contract somewhere, then look at a permanent job, preferably one that can lead to a partnership. What about you?”

“Similar,” he replied, “a year in a hospital as a junior house officer, then start on my fellowship. Assuming I can get a job on an A and E team somewhere, I should make consultant in ten years after qualification.”

“Won’t being the son of one of the country’s top surgeons help out with that?” Karen asked.

“I’m not sure I’d want it to. It’s the reason I chose to come to Edinburgh, rather than Leeds. Well plus the fact that the family expected me to, since both my Dad and my Grandad both came here, but I didn’t want to go and study at the University where my Dad is the head of the Medical School.”

“You prefer to make it on your own?” She asked.

“On my own merits at least,” he replied, “what I don’t want is anybody to point a finger at me and say, he only got where he is because of his family.”

“You sound like you don’t like your family,” she said.

“No, that’s not true,” he replied, “I adore my family, and you’ll love them too. I just don’t want to hang onto my dad and grandad’s coat tails. In some ways I’d have been better off going into something other than medicine.”

“I think that would have been medicine’s loss,” Karen concluded.

“Well, luckily I decided to give it a shot.”

“Oh, I think you’ll give it more than a shot,” she replied, “talking of shooting, how long before we’re home?”

“Did you just call the flat home?”

“Yes,” she answered, “I just did. How long?”

“Ten minutes,” Jon replied,” why?”

“I’ve got an itch and I’m desperate to scratch it.”

“And you can’t scratch it in the car?”

“Not while I’m driving, no.”

She must have pressed down harder on the accelerator, because it was only eight minutes later, that they pulled up outside the house.

Ten minutes later they were inside, undressed and busily scratching each other’s itches.

Later as they lay naked in each other’s arms Jon hugged her tight to him.

“You know,” he said, “I never thought I’d fall for someone this much, this fast.”

“I know,” Karen replied, “it hit me the same way. You don’t think maybe we should step back a little do you?”

“No way,” he replied, “that’s definitely not going to happen. Unless you want to.”

“No, I don’t,” she answered, “I just wanted to check that you didn’t.”

“Well, I’m glad that’s settled,” he said, “was there anything else?”

“Yes,” she said, in a low sultry tone, “my itch came back.”

He scratched it for her.

The following morning they were up, showered, dressed and out for eight o’clock, ready for a week of lectures and seminars, and practical sessions.

As it turned out it was a peaceful week. On Thursday, after a couple of hours of study, Jon and Karen decided that rather than cook something they would walk round to the Heid and eat there. It also gave Karen the opportunity to report that, if her job was still open, she’d be fit to start work the following week, it was.

After a meal of haggis, neeps and tatties, a dish that they both decided they could do without for the foreseeable future and a pint each of ‘Heavy’ they walked back hand in hand to the flat and let themselves in.

As soon as they’d shed their jackets (carefully hung on the hooks in the vestibule, of course), Karen attacked his lips.

“Not that I’m complaining,” Jon said as they broke the kiss, “but what was that for?”

“Does it have to be ‘for’ something?” Karen replied, “Can’t it just be ‘I love you Jonathan Todd’?”

Jon pulled her back to him and fastened his lips back on hers.

“Only if that one can just be ‘I love you Karen Kaliszewski’,” he replied nearly three minutes later.

While they continued to kiss, Karen’s fingers were busy unfastening the buttons on Jon’s shirt, while his hands were lifting the hem of her top up and getting it in position to take off.

Karen broke the kiss just long enough to allow Jon to lift the top over her head, and to unbutton the sleeves of his shirt and then slip that off his torso. The two garments made a single pile on the living room rug. Jon noticed that his earlier suspicion was correct, Karen was not wearing a bra.

“Sexy,” he whispered.

“If you think that’s sexy, take my jeans off,” she replied.

“You’re not?” he queried.

“That’s right, I’m not,” she replied. And she wasn’t, as he slipped her jeans down her legs the first sight he saw was a neatly trimmed bush of soft brown hair. He dropped to his knees, took hold of her, pulled her forward and kissed her, right on the lips. His tongue gently tickling the little button at the top of her slit. He felt rather than heard her gasp.

“I’ll give you until Wednesday to stop that,” she murmured.

“Sorry, I’m busy Wednesday, but I could be free to stop it on Thursday,” he replied.

They both chuckled.

“Are we going to stand and kiss like this all night?” Karen asked, “or are you going to carry me into the bedroom, throw me on the bed and ravish me?”

Jon picked her up and carried her through into the bedroom, their bedroom.

He placed her gently on the bed, then finished the job of getting her naked and climbed up on it with her.

Jon looked down at the naked form of his girlfriend and his heart soared. She was beautiful.

“What are you looking at so intently?” she asked softly.

“Arguably, no definitely,” he began, “the most beautiful sight on the face of this planet.”

She smiled up at him.

“Then why don’t you shed the clothes and take advantage of your superior strength and ravish me?” she asked.