Chapter 2

The next morning as Andrew swam he tried to focus on something other than the upcoming commercial, and on him and Abi, but it was difficult. She was exploring and defining her sexuality just like Suzanne was. In a totally different way but the comparison held. Andrew? He was the lucky guy that reaped the benefit while they were on this journey. The comparison between Lily and Abi was interesting. Even if Lily was working out her sexual personality there was no discussion about it. She knew what she wanted right at that moment and Andrew was one of the people that provided it. Transactional, consensual and plain fucking. No emotions and no pretence, a woman further along the continuum. Abi was still in the early stages, dealing with her innate personality and her bad experiences. Andrew had no idea where all this was going and the coming two months would be an interesting time. And a recurring dilemma that Lily, and Abi, and Maggie, were all dealing with was perception, and making sure they were not judged or labelled.

Lily’s external persona was on display Thursday night at the Art College, quiet and shy. This was the penultimate session and already there were a couple of people not there, finished with their work. The final session had less than half the number of people from the start of the term. Andrew declined the offer of a drink and just headed back to Trinity.

Andrew was at the station in plenty of time for the first stage of his journey, to London. And the train to Edinburgh left King’s Cross on time, but with him sprinting to make it. The Cambridge train had sat outside the station for 10 frustrating minutes before finally pulling into the station. Andrew only had a minute to change platforms and made it with mere seconds to spare. First Class was at the front of the train, he could have jumped on at any point but stood inside the door, catching his breath before moving into the carriage and finding his seat. As expected the conductor was there before his arse hit the cushion.

“This is first class.”

Normally Andrew just showed them the ticket and after much scrutiny they went away. Today, he was not thinking nice thoughts about British Rail having nearly missed the train.

“I know.”

He probably didn’t need to snarl.

“Show me your ticket. This is first class.”

Andrew slowly stood up, just a little too close to him for his comfort, invading his space, forcing him to take a step back. Andrew pulled the ticket from his back pocket and threw it down on the table. He didn’t sit back down and made no other move. After the conductor checked the ticket, thoroughly, he handed it back to Andrew without a word and left. Only then did he sit back down. Letting out a deep breath he calmed down. He very rarely played the bully, used his height, voice and short hair in an intimidating manner. But British Rail conductors reminded him of the parents of his youth, he was guilty before the conversations started. Fuck them.

Feeling better Andrew finally relaxed into his seat and contemplated life. Normally his default mode for train travel was studying but he was caught up on all his classes, had read what little there was left to cover this term and even he couldn’t face starting on the term two reading already. It was too soon after his last review of the plan and goals and so he left them alone as well.

What Andrew thought about that late autumn day was confidence and leadership. A year ago these were his concerns, interacting with other people, being able to lead other people with that lightness of touch that Pete had always shown. Now, more than a year later, he thought about all that again. It was almost a surprise how comfortable he felt. It was as if this had sneaked up on him. OTC was easy so far that year, Andrew was a competent soldier so that was hardly a surprise. What was surprising was the ease and comfort that he felt with the leadership role he was training for. The weekend at Stanford had been painless, it brought back memories of school and tutoring. Planning an exercise, the key task for term three, was very much in his comfort zone. He would have to work on the actual tactics, making the right military decision but planning something out, writing up a set of orders, thinking through all the elements of an attack, positioning, coordination, communication. This was second nature to him. Not only was it inherently something he was good at, it was something Andrew had a lot of experience of, and as an engineer it was something he was being taught about.

But it was more than that. The whole year Andrew had felt like a student at last. A teenage university student, away from home. With him you had to qualify these things. There were mildly drunken discussions and card games. There had been a lot more time spent just hanging out, enjoying the company of friends. Often on Wednesdays they would loiter over dinner. Little things like that were so different to his first year. Andrew was structured and disciplined but was also more confident in his own ability. If anything he was working less hard than the previous year, yet was getting excellent grades in his labs and had no issues with any of his supervisions. Andrew had used the analogy of trying too hard many times across many situations but as he sat on the train watching his reflection in the carriage window, he realised that he was not trying too hard this year, less angst filled worry, less teenage bullshit. Andrew was comfortable with who he was, doing well at the course and at the OTC. His volunteering was still a work in progress but it was always going to be that way. There was no continuity, it was the nature of the ward and so there was a constant need to introduce himself, always a fresh sceptical face wondering why he was there. And the modelling was. Andrew stopped and thought. What was the modelling? Fun? That was too much of a stretch. It allowed him to study uninterrupted for three hours but even then it wasn’t like he couldn’t do that in the Department, his room or the Library. Was it the karmic price to pay for the other opportunities? Professor Wilkins said they were always looking for models, but it was not as if there were none. Andrew was just different to the normal art school models. The more he thought about it the more he was confused. Was he just like Abi, a suppressed exhibitionist? He had chipped away at some of that suppression and was now doing this. He wasn’t sure. He did not need to do it, and was not being paid for it. Was it swimming that made him so unselfconscious of his body? At some point he no longer cared that people ogled him. But it was tied back to his confidence. It was one more thing that he was comfortable with, one more thing that he was confident doing.

Even the commercial where he would be naked in front of a lot of different men and women, Andrew wasn’t worried about that. He was worried that his actions, reactions, facial expressions would not be good enough to convey what Hermès wanted from the commercial. Had he become a posing peacock? One of those men who think they are god’s gift to women? Andrew didn’t think so, but at the same time he was starting to develop some of those behaviours. But he was not a show off in the rest of his life. He smiled and shook his head at his own rationalisation.

The rest of the journey was uneventful. A businessman got on the train at Newcastle and tried to play conductor when he saw Andrew. Andrew just ignored him and when he carried on Andrew told him to fuck off. When the conductor turned up the idiot businessman immediately complained about him. Sullen silence followed when the conductor informed him that Andrew had a first class ticket. Apparently students are not meant to travel first class, at least not dressed as students. When they arrived at Waverly he was still glowering at Andrew, right up until Andrew stood up and towered over him. Then the pathetic little weasel scurried off. A fucking bully, he must have been a nightmare to work for. Andrew left his grumpiness on the train and grabbed a cab up to the flat. A quick peek in Suzanne’s room confirmed that she was not there and in fact it didn’t look like she had been there at all. The pile of mail behind the door suggested that as well. Once again it was a five minute change and then off to get Pete. A month had passed and Andrew’s flat was looking better and better.

“I can’t believe I gave up your place to share with these guys.”

Pete shook his head.

“Thieving bastards. I have to keep my food in my room otherwise one of them is eating it as if it was theirs. You already let out my room didn’t you?”

Andrew nodded.

“You should see it now. Suzanne brought three car loads of stuff over.”

“Damn. In fact double damn. Not only is there no room but you have Suzanne as a flatmate.”

Pete eyed him sneakily.

“So there is still a room available?”

“She has her own room Pete.”

He laughed.

“Same old Andrew. How’s Cambridge?”

The journey down to the Nite Club was filled with details of life at their respective universities. Pete was doing well on the course although his course was skewing more towards marketing. He was still doing the minimum of computer science courses but it was clear already that he was more interested in marketing. When they got to the venue they encountered a situation rare for them. The place was sold out and with Kenny the friendly bouncer no longer working there they were stuck. In the past when the place was full or sold out Kenny had still got them in. The fire code was voluntary right? So they wandered back up the hill to the Guildford to have a couple of beers and catch up.

“I miss going out to gigs, Cambridge is pretty quiet.”

“What about London?”

“Getting back is the issue. Last train and all that crap. Some bands aren’t even on before I would have to head back to the station.”

“The car?”

“Seems like a bit flash, even for me. Plus I have no idea where I would park it most of the time. I have thought about it now and again. Anyway, I think I need a new car. Leslie really likes it and can’t be bothered going shopping for one herself.”

“Really, you are just going to let her take your car.”

“It’s five years old now. They came out with the new model last year. I will talk to her about it this weekend. If she is serious then I will go shopping for one at Christmas.”

Pete just laughed.

“Listen to you. Don’t fancy something else?”

“I don’t think so. I am used to the Golf and it is not like I drive it much anyway. We will see after I graduate if I want something different.”

Conveniently glossing over what he had been up to the previous weekend. After a few beers they headed back over to Marchmont. It was cold but not raining and so they walked up and over to their flats.

“When you back?”

“I should be here by the end of the second week of December.”

“Why so late?”

Andrew thought for a second but decided to be honest.

“We are meeting with the Imperial Cancer Research Fund that week. Julian doesn’t finish until the 7^th so that is the earliest that we can meet them.”

“Wow. It is really happening?”

He nodded.

“It will be a strange moment, the culmination of many years. I suspect it will be quite emotional.”

Pete exhaled loudly. Andrew understood that feeling.

“It still is so unbelievable that you gave it all away. Well most of it. I don’t think many people at the party have talked about it. In a lot of ways it was amazing just to hear about it, to know about it. Can I ask you how much money you are giving them?”

“£2m.”

“Just for this year?”

“Yes.”

The smile and shaken head were very familiar, and oddly comforting.

“If you did nothing else with your life that would still be an incredible thing. Even at that level you will give more than £100m over your life. Gives the rest of us a kick up the arse, that’s for sure.”

Andrew had never looked at it that way. Even he was taken aback by the amount. They reached Pete’s flat.

“I’ll give you a call when I get back. Three weeks or so, okay?”

It was nice to be just be honest with someone, not self-censor or downright lie. After his usual morning routine of exercise, including a nice long swim across the road, Andrew was sitting in the flat sorting through all the mail. Most was of no consequence, bills and statements but there was a letter from Heloise and a letter from Suzanne. Opening the latter first it was a brief note letting him know that she was staying through in Glasgow this term and that she would probably see him at Christmas. Yes, the letter said probably. Andrew sat on the couch thinking about Suzanne and her sudden reticence to see him. Although Leslie had guilted him about her and Julian on the drive back in the summer, it was Suzanne that Andrew felt he had let down the most. His trips up to Scotland were to see her, at least as much as anyone else. And she was preferring to keep her distance. He sat there for a long time, thinking about them as a sort of couple. Everything had seemed so positive before he left, Leslie had been worried that it was too positive, too much. And yet less than two months later Suzanne was holding him beyond arm’s length. So this was separation from Suzanne; it sucked.

Heloise’s letter was also brief but let him know that she would be in her flat in Paris between 2.00 and 4.00 Paris time on Sunday afternoon. After lunch with his Grandma Andrew could call her and get an understanding of this commercial.

He walked into town as he had a significant purchase to make. Andrew wanted to get Manon and Phillippe something nice for Christmas as a thank you for everything that she had done for him that year. He wanted it to be small so that it would fit in his suitcase to Paris. He had no idea what pieces Hailey had at the Gallery but hoped there would be something that stood out. But first he had to run the gauntlet of Hailey’s idiot helper. The Gallery had just opened and there was no sign of Hailey. What he did encounter was her snobby assistant whose face was a picture. She didn’t want to engage him but also wanted him out the Gallery, he was clearly lowering the tone of the place. Having dealt with idiots the previous day Andrew managed to contain his grump. Mostly. He went to the display of Robert’s pieces looking at them to see if there was anything that caught his eye. As with the drink’s cabinet he had bought for Freya and Jim there were several pieces where there were different woods inlaid to create a pattern or motif. Andrew’s gaze was drawn to a pair of book ends, smaller than the rest of his work but still nicely carved and inlaid. As with all of his work there was nothing manufactured or mass market about them. They were unique and the more Andrew looked at them the more he loved them. He hadn’t seen Julian pull up outside but he now joined Andrew in the gallery.

“Hey, who is that for?”

“Manon, as a thank you for everything. What do you think?”

“Eh, they are nice.”

His art expert, Julian Strong. Andrew took the two book ends to the counter. Just at that moment Hailey arrived.

“Andrew, what are you doing here?”

“Shopping again. I feel like a publican drinking the inventory.”

“Good choice, these are lovely. Who are they for this time?”

“A friend in Paris. She graduated from ENSAD and now works at Hermès.”

The reaction of Hailey’s assistant to all this was hilarious. Her boss was chatting away to him like an old friend and every comment just made her reaction more pronounced. Once everything was settled Andrew led Hailey away from the counter and told her that she needed to watch the attitude of her assistant. The scowl on Hailey’s face when she looked back at the counter was something to behold. She had already starting berating the assistant before he was even out the door. With a smile, Andrew put the present in the trunk and jumped in the car.

After that he and Julian spent the rest of the morning driving around Edinburgh in Julian’s old Capri. Andrew had an old Golf, which Leslie appeared to want to keep since her decrepit Escort had died, and Julian still had his Capri from four years earlier, and it hadn’t been new then. As you can tell, they blew all their money on flash cars!

It was a conscious attempt to recreate their coding experience from school. They ended up taking the M90 all the way to Perth, just to turn round and come back again. They talked computing, coding, what would be described as brain-storming in the years to come. When they got back to the house they went to the home office and tried to map out some ideas for programs. Some were pie in the sky outlandish, and some were nothing more than an incremental improvement of something that existed already. They didn’t expect to get anywhere but it was an opportunity to reconnect, relive some moments from their programming past. The two of them were happy as clams talking programming, trying to see what they could come up with as ideas. The business brains of the outfit left them alone. They would talk to her on another day. They didn’t expect answers, they wanted to enjoy the process. By the end of the day there were posters and scraps of paper all over his home office. After his day with Julian, Leslie and Andrew left him to reheated take-out from the night before and they went out for dinner. A few hours of just the two of them.